A Spartan in Westeros (Game of Thrones X Halo Crossover)
by Agailius
Summary: When the Forward Unto Dawn lands in the North, it sets the stage for untold repercussions which will ripple throughout the whole of Westeroes. As John and Cortana comes to terms with the fact they may never find their way back to the world they had bled so hard to protect, they find themselves thrust into a world where humans are threatened not by the Covenant, but by themselves.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Halo. Game of Thrones is property of HBO and George RR Martin. Halo is property of Bungie, 343 Industries, and Microsoft... or something like that. Look, I don't own them, okay?

This idea of a crossover has been festering like a bad case of dysentery inside the bowels of my mind for about a month or two. I know, it's weird, but I do this for the purpose of indulging my imagination and also to see everyone's favorite Spartan opening five cans of whoop-ass. Be warned, however, as Master Chief is obviously going to make mincemeat of entire armies, throw the game of thrones completely wabbajack, and generally making every Lannister (hint hint) in Westeros brown their trousers when they realize the aforementioned cans of whoop-ass he will open.

Why? Because he can.

Anyway, we'll start our story just before the canonical start of the series...

* * *

The _Forward Unto Dawn_ had been adrift in uncharted space for nearly three years, by Cortana's estimates-time had little meaning in the darkness of the ship's battered hull. The distress beacon slowly gnawed away at it's already waning power supply as they floated through the abyss, with no clear destination in sight. All the while, Chief was silent, slumbering in that coffin of ice and stasis, leaving Cortana alone to her thoughts, with but all the summed knowledge of humanity to occupy her time.

Until fate, chance, (lack of) luck, some combination thereof, or something else entirely, changed that. Like a ripple breaking the surface of a long-still pond, the monotone was broken.

The ship was being pulled into the gravitational field of a planet. The smart AI could have tried to change the wreck's course earlier, perhaps avoiding the pull altogether-but that was just the problem. The ship was a wreck. Even if she could revert their power supply to fuel the rear thrusters, Cortana knew that even to fire up the engines could drain the last reserves of power they had, silencing their distress beacon and leaving them adrift in the darkness of space.

By all accounts, the planet itself seemed hospitable enough. Cloud formations, vast bodies of water, three visible land masses from the ship's vantage point... honestly, it looked a lot like Earth, except for the formations of said continents.

"Sadly, no time for sight-seeing," Cortana sighed, "From what I guess, this'll be one of those close encounters."

Indeed, while the pull of the planet's mass was slow at first, momentum was building and soon the pull would become harder, their course running faster. She wagered they had perhaps less than an hour before they entered the planet's atmosphere. And if they were to be ready, to salvage what they could of their sorry situation... well, it was time.

"Time to wake up the sleeping beauty," She said with snark in her voice, but not without a smile on her face as she turned towards her long-dormant friend.

It was time for John to wake up.

* * *

Arya had managed to smuggle herself and a decent horse out of the castle without a hitch. It had been close, and only possible because she'd caught Harwin doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing, and had been all too eager to allow her to run off in exchange for her silence. It was actually rather funny how he was so flustered over some pretty little woman from the winter town, but Arya didn't care as long as she got her little moment of adventure.

She'd wondered off after Sansa and Jenye Poole had been particularly nasty to her during another of Septa Mordaine's dreadful sewing lessons, and was all too happy to distract herself-her mother's inevitable scolding be damned. She wasn't a lady, and wasn't going to let any of them make her try to be one. She'd ride, wear boy's cloths, and get dirty as much as she well pleased.

Sadly, it wasn't to last, because it seemed she had someone in pursuit. Jon was riding fast behind her, covering ground much more quickly on his black charger as he called out her name. A wicked smile broadening across her face, Arya turned her horse to gallop, hoping to out-ride her favorite brother.

For several minutes, she did, until it became clear Jon had both the better skill of riding as well as the sturdier horse. She puffed her cheeks as she slowed her poor, wheezing horse into a low trot, frustrated she'd been caught so quickly.

Once he caught up to her, she could see Jon had a quizzical look on his face. "Aren't you supposed to be sewing with the septa?"

To that, Arya lowered her gaze, finding her saddle to be quite interesting. "It's boring there. And everyone knows I stink at being a lady."

Jon only smiled. "Right, you are a little wolf," He laughed, reaching out his hand to her ruffling her hair. "One of the Starks of Winterfell."

She laughed, as she always did with Jon. Of all her siblings, only he didn't try to make her be a lady, encouraging her to do the things she liked. "You're my brother, so that makes you a wolf, too."

Jon's eyes became bitter at her words as he simply looked forward. "No, I'm not a Stark. I'm a Snow, nothing more."

"But why? You look more like father than all of us!"

"We've already talked about this, Arya," Jon said in a voice which brokered no further mention of the topic, guiding the both of them to a nearby pond along the road. "Let your horse drink and catch it's breath. Then we ride back for Winterfell. You're mother will be worried about..." His voice trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration, as though he'd discovered something amiss.

"Jon...?" Arya blinked at her brother, wondering what was wrong.

"Can't you hear that?"

She looked at him oddly. "Hear what?" But she didn't have to wait before her own ears picked up a most peculiar sound. It was distant, yet distinct-like a a low, far-off, but intense wind galling high in the air. All of a sudden, the horse became afraid, neighing and whinnying in increasing volumes of distress.

"I don't like this," Jon said uneasily. "We should head back."

Arya blinked, confused at that. "Wait, what is it? Is there a storm coming?" She looked up into the sky, trying to find dark clouds...

"Not likely. Winter may indeed be coming, but Maester Luwin says it's still a while off before fall. I think-"

"Jon, look!" Arya's eyes were wide now, her gaze fixed upwards.

Following her gaze, Jon looked queerly upwards-and his eyes widened. "By the Old Gods...!"

For up in the sky, it looked as though a terrible, fiery star-or perhaps a part of the sky itself-was falling fast towards the earth. And as it fell further down towards the earth, the noise intensified. And although she was scared, although she feared that it could fall down on her and Jon, or at their home in Winterfell, Arya couldn't help but gaze at it in awe. She'd never seen something like it before.

* * *

"Well, we can at least take comfort in the fact this won't be our first emergency landing," Cortana quipped within the confines of the recently-awakened John-117's helmet, her data crystal feeling much safer within the Spartan's armor than on that derelict ship, even as the _Forward Unto Dawn_ breached the planet's atmosphere, set on a course for the northern part of the western landmass. "Didn't you go through this before?"

"Admittedly," John replied dryly, "I only had a flimsy piece of metal, not half a ship."

"Well then, this shouldn't be a problem for you. We've got less than a minute before we hit ground level, and we can't use any of the escape pods."

"We'll make it," He assured her in his simple yet sincere confidence.

"...I know I said this before, but I sure know how to pick 'em." If she had a mouth, Cortana would have smiled at that moment. Even with the ship's hull burning as it ripped through the sky, even as the ground came upon them closer and closer, she could take comfort in this one man's presence.

It was just the kind of man John was.

* * *

On that day, when the wreckage of the _Forward Unto Dawn_ landed in the North, midway between Torrhen's Square and Winterfell, was like a mountain crashing into the sea. For though the earth's shaking when the colossal mass of metal impacted the land could be felt and heard for miles around, it would pale in comparison to the waves which would ripple throughout Westeros in the coming months and years.

For on that day, the mightiest hero Westeros would ever come to know arrived, and this stranger from another world would make the realm tremble before him.


	2. First Contact

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Halo. Game of Thrones is property of HBO and George RR Martin, and Halo is property of Bungie, 343 Industries, Microsoft, or some combination of those three. Bloody split from Microsoft complicated everything, and then 343 got in on the action-anyway, I digress. Look, I don't own them, okay?

Hm. Well, that worked out better than expected. No one's ripped my head off yet. I will admit, this is my first fanfic outside of Beast's Lair, as well as the first one having nothing to do with F/SN, but I guess being relatively familiar with both of these series helps. Thanks for the positive reviews thus far-I hope I don't %# & this up.

To clarify for those curious, John and Cortana land about a month or two before Robert comes North, just before Jon Arryn dies and the Starks find the direwolf pups. Needless to say, the crash landing of the Dawn has garnered **_quite_ **a bit of attention.

On an unrelated note, I have to admit another idea came to me before I decided to stick with them landing near Winterfell-where the Dawn actually lands beyond the Wall and John starts kicking Other arse left and right before the free-folk name him King Beyond the Wall. Then I remembered my chronic sympathy for all things Stark, and decided to simply land him in the North instead.

Anywho, let's get to it.

* * *

"Cortana," John asked plainly as he opened his palm, the image of a young woman appearing in his hand. "How damaged is the ship?"

"All things considered, not too badly," Cortana replied crisply tinted with some slight relief. "Even as banged up as the _Dawn_ was from that freak slipspace jump out of the Ark, the outer hull still held up against the atmospheric pressure. Plus, we managed to just skid across the surface. Sure, she's shaken pretty badly, but these ships are designed for going through the skies as much as they are in orbit. The power grid is still operational, thanks to us cutting the power beforehand."

John nodded. "Supplies?"

"Enough to last us for a while, but not for any longer than a few months. And I'm not sure exactly how much we could salvage after the fall the _Dawn_ took. And before you even ask, _yes_, the armory on-board is still intact, as well as the hangar. Frankly, I think we should just be grateful we somehow managed to pilfer off of your good luck yet again, head outdoors, and fancy a look at the new neighborhood."

"And if the neighbors aren't friendly?" The Spartan inspected his trusty assault rifle, it's weight in his hands as though their mad escape from the Ark had only happened yesterday. Cortana had told him before they had entered the planet's atmosphere that it did not register in any records by UNSC, nor from any she'd hacked from the Covenant. Heck, not even any of the Forerunner codes so much as glimpsed at the planet's existence. To make things even more interesting, before they had hit the ground, Cortana and he had even seen a structure in the distance-a stone fortress or castle, by the looks of it. It even _looked _like something humans would have built a more than a millennium ago. The planet was inhabited, of that there was no doubt.

But John had been through far too much to be naive enough to let his guard down. Even with the Flood defeated, even with the last of the Prophets slain, the Covenant sundered and the hope of peace and salvation for mankind a very real and likely thing, there were always dangers lurking in the shadows. Even if there had been no sign of any of their former enemies, there was no way of knowing just what inhabited this mysterious world, or how they would respond to their arrival on the planet.

"Now, now," Cortana chided to him in a motherly tone, "Manners, John. Besides, you've handled anyone with untoward intentions just fine before. Just make sure to keep your toy down unless they don't play nice, okay?"

"Right," He remarked dryly, more than familiar with the AI's scoldings. He put the rifle on safety, but kept it handy nonetheless. "Let's go meet the neighbors."

As he took his first steps out of the Foreward Unto Dawn's wreckage, and onto the grassy soil of this strange world, he remembered the last words of a man he had once called friend: _Don't... **ever**... let her go..._

Even if he had done all he could to fulfill his duty to humanity, to finish the fight and stop those who would see mankind destroyed, what had not changed was his job to look out for Cortana, regardless of circumstance. Even if all his other obligations were bereft of him, he would not fail Dr. Halsey nor Johnson's faith in him... nor Cortana's, either.

* * *

The wilderness seemed to stretch on for miles around as John made his solitary march eastward, towards the castle they had seen in the distance prior to landing. For the most part, there hadn't been the barest hint of civilization since they left the _Forward Unto Dawn_.

The flora and fauna they encountered was certainly familiar enough-birds, rodents, pines, oaks, moss... there were a few unfamiliar plants, sure, but aside from that, the Spartan would have thought himself back on one of the UNSC's more hospitable colonies-perhaps even Earth itself.

Despite all it's uncanny resemblance to home, however, John couldn't help but feel that something was... _off_ about this planet. For some reason, the cold clung too tightly in the air, permeating more thickly than what he'd expect back on Earth. It went beyond simply as a matter of their location so far north; It felt unnatural.

But whatever other observations he could have made were cut short when he heard the sound of multiple sets of hooves clattering against the ground some distance off. He readied his rifle as they sounded coming closer.

"Well, looks like the locals have decided to pay us a visit. How nice of them," Cortana quipped.

John was stunned at what happened next. Riding over the eastward hill came more than a dozen riders mounted on horses, all wearing furs to evidently combat the cold climate, and for some reason, archaic armor, spears, and round shield with the image of a wolf emblazoned upon them. Some of them carried white flags which bore a similar embroidery.

But what had caught him off guard wasn't the fact that there was indeed intelligent life, nor the fact they were armed in something that belonged more than a thousand years in the past.

What took him by surprise was the fact that these natives were unmistakeably _human_.

The riders quickly homed in on his location, the soldiers encircling John from all sides. They all looked warily at him, but they did nothing which indicated they'd attempt to attack him. After a moment of strained silence, four riders approached him, three being youths. One had dark hair and gray eyes, his face solemn and grave. Another had auburn locks and bright, blue eyes, looking warily at John. The third youth, carrying a bow had sandy brown hair and dark eyes, likewise looked at him suspiciously, but had a sort of cocky look on his face.

But the three seemed to defer to the fourth rider, and older man, perhaps in his late thirties or early forties, with dark hair and gray eyes like the first boy except peppered with signs of old age. On his back was strapped a massive great-sword poking over his shoulder. John could see he held and aura of authority over the whole group, indicating he was their leader. He stared at John for a long moment before he spoke, to John's surprise, in perfect if a bit archaic English. "In the name of King Robert of House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men; I, Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell ask that you identify yourself, stranger."

"Castles, medieval armaments, kings and lords?" Cortana asked quizzically inside John's helmet, none but the Spartan being able to hear her. "Toto, we are definitely not in Kansas anymore."

John couldn't help but agree. All his life, the only government he'd known was the United Earth Government, which was most certainly not anything remotely like a monarchy. But he supposed that he had little harm in complying. After all, they probably didn't know enough to threaten him.

"Master Chief Petty Officer of the United Nations Space Command Navy, SPARTAN-117."

Judging from the confused looks the riders shared, he guessed right.


	3. Jon and John

Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit, fan-based fanfiction. I do not own Game of Thrones or Halo. Game of Thrones is property of HBO and George RR Martin, and Halo is property of 343 Industries, and probably Bungie. I'll also throw in Microsoft, just to be safe, because if I hadn't made it clear before, I honestly don't know how the whole thing worked out on the Halo franchise's ownership. Anywho, please support both the Game of Thrones live-action show, as well as the Halo franchise of games.

Geez, if I had know that that last chapter was gonna end up so friggin' short, I would've expanded on it. If I ever have the laziness and impatience to turn out such a short chapter again, please feel obligated to deliver a left hook to my ever-so delicate cheekbones. Also, am I the only one who was a littler weirded out that in two chapters, I hit EXACTLY three-thousand words? Totally unintentional, honest to God.

Anywho, thanks again for your support for this series. I think I'm on a roll here thanks to you guys! Now, we finally cut to... wait, am I also the only one when it comes to predicting that there'll be some confusion between John and Jon? That sounds like pure sitcom material. Agh! I digress, now we go to Jon Snow's point of view! We may be seeing a great deal of these two together! (hint hint) Also, if John seems to be doing something weird, it's more than likely Cortana's talking to him.

* * *

As the company of Northern men broke camp that night, Jon Snow continued to eye the stranger whom they had discovered earlier in the day. In all his life, he'd never seen such an individual. He was tall, taller than anyone Jon had ever seen-perhaps as tall as the Mountain that Rides, from the way his father spoke of the monster. His armor was a suit of dull green plate overlaying a strange suit of black, odd symbols and numbers unceremoniously decorating it. It looked strong, no doubt, but it seemed to not be made to repel swords. His helmet completely concealed his face, no sign of a visor other than that queer orange-yellow surface covering his face.

The man, identifying himself in a strange accent, spoke rarely that day, and not at all since they stopped to rest for the night, staying at the edge of the campsite away from prying eyes. The soldiers Jon's father had accompanying them were openly wary of the stranger, but the lord of Winterfell had instructed them to give him no trouble.

He did claim to have come from the fallen star, after all.

Still the image haunted Jon. The giant, fiery shape tearing through the sky, making the wind itself scream like a woman in labor, the earth seeming to rumble beneath his feet soon after. It was the reason they had gone out in the first place, to find whatever had fallen out of the sky. When he and Arya had managed to calm the horses and rode back to Winterfell to tell all they had seen, they were not too surprised to find the castle ablaze in commotion, having see the sight themselves. Most thought it was an terrifying omen, to be sure, but merely passing through the heavens. But Maester Luwin confirmed what Jon had seen-it was something that had fallen to the earth. He had heard tale of similar occurrences during his stay at the Citadel, he had told them, but had never before witnessed such a thing.

Immediately, Jon's father gathered a party of men-himself, Robb, and Theon included-to investigate the matter. Though Lady Catelyn was understandably fearful for her husband, and wished for him not to go, the lord of Winterfell refused to stay. As Warden of the North, it was his duty to guard it from all threats, lest he fail in his duty.

Arya had wanted to come, too, but both Lady Catelyn and his father adamantly refused to allow her to accompany them. And as much as Jon endorsed her wild ways, he had to agree. The whole matter could prove to be extremely dangerous, and as much a fire-spit as Arya was, it was still no place for a girl. She was very sullen about not going, but ultimately complied to her parents' wishes.

They had rode out hard and swift, following the path of the fallen star's decent, skirting along the southern edge of the Wolfswood towards Torrhen's Square. They had just crossed over the White Knife when their party discovered the strangely-clad, giant figure making his way out of the forest. Upon first glance, all of the men were suspicious of him, a man so odd yet so obviously armed for war. He had wanted no quarrel, which all were slightly relieved by, but when Jon's father questioned where he had come from, his answer that he had a vessel which had crashed half a day's journey into the Wolfswood shocked them all-if he was telling the truth, then that 'fallen star' was not a star at all, but a great ship which did not float on water-_but flew through the skies_. That this man before them had come from the heavens themselves!

Lord Stark, though shaken at this otherworldly implication had asked for the stranger take them to this vessel, having rode out to investigate the very same anomaly. After a moment of silence, the armored figure agreed, stating he would lead them to the crash site. By that time, however, it was late in the afternoon, and after only a few hours of riding through the Wolfswood, they had to stop for the night. Now, well past dark, Jon, his father, Robb, and Theon all sat around one of their camp's three fires.

"Do you really think that man is telling the truth?" Robb wondered, catching Jon look out to where the newcomer sat just outside camp, silently keeping watch.

"What he said _does_ sound like something only a drunken mummer could concoct," Theon added, chewing on a strip of bacon. "And judging from the way he holds that thing he's carrying, I'd say he's armed."

"We can do little else but trust him," Jon's father replied gravely. "He is willing to take us to whatever fell there, which would likely save us a great deal of time."

"But what if it's a trap?" Robb asked his father. "What if there truly is danger there, and he only leads us to kill us at his leisure?"

"If he meant to kill us, he would have done it before we encircled him," Jon spoke up. "Theon's right. He carries a weapon, I think. And as much as I don't understand it, just from the way he carried himself, it felt like he could've taken us all on without much trouble."

Theon snorted at that. "He's only a man. No matter his size or armor, he couldn't take us all on."

"Careful, Theon," Ned warned, but not coldly, "We still no not of his capabilities. It is wise we remain wary of him, but Jon is right to trust in his instincts-the man has thus far done nothing to give us cause to fear him." Then Eddard turned to his natural son, handing him a wineskin and some bread with bacon, along with a cloak of fur. "Take this to him, John. We should at least offer some hospitality to him."

For a moment, Jon felt hesitant to go, but he trusted his father, and nodded, taking the food over through the camp, towards the lone figure scanning the trees. When Jon approached him, he tilted his head up at the nearly-of-age lad, his head still encased in that strange helmet, the gold visor still concealing his face. Jon was a bit embarrassed that he was feeling awkward as he assumed the stranger was staring at him. "...My father asked me to bring you these. Something to help stave off the cold."

"It's fine," The man replied simply, almost dismissively. "I'm not cold, or hungry."

Jon eyed him oddly, confused. "But, you're only wearing that armor of yours. And you need to keep up your strength."

"Trust me, I'm-" For a moment, the man cut himself off, as though he'd head something, and then put a finger to the side of his helmet. Then, after a few moments of silence, he strangely became more compliant, extending his hand. "Fine." He accepted the food, and, after another odd moment of him silently putting his ear to his helmet, he also accepted the cloak.

Satisfied, if a bit smarted by the man's rather calloused tone, Jon turned around to head back to his family, but was stopped when the stranger spoke up again. "Kid," he said aloud, sounding somewhat uneasy saying the word, "Thanks."

Turning around to face him, Jon inclined his head. "The name's Jon."

To that, the stranger just nodded. And yet Jon felt some happiness at that.

* * *

After what felt like a short night of sleep, Jon was awoken by his father and soon the others woke as well, dawn's light just peaking out through the trees. The party quickly packed up and continued their way through the woods, following the stranger in green armor-now with a cloak, who seemed to have been awake before anyone else. If he had fallen asleep at all. All the while, he simply walked, never bothering to ask for a ride on any of the horses, nor tiring as he led them through the wood.

For the next few hours they made their way in silence, rarely stopping or even bothering to speak. And then, when the stranger says they've arrived, there is an irregularity in the otherwise uniform trees of the Wolfswood. A great, terrible clearing laid the ground bare and torn, like a great plow had rent the earth. Trees great and small were uprooted, overturned, shattered and splintered, indicating destruction even the most terrible of storms could not inflict.

And, looking down this terrible, unnatural gap in the forest, Jon's eyes widen alongside everyone else as they behold what lay there. It would be a sight Jon would never in all his years forget.

A great, gigantic hill of metal, it's dull steel hull shimmering in the sunlight. Upon it's side was emblazoned in great letters, '_FORWARD UNTO DAWN_'.

"By the Old, the New, and the Drowned..." Theon gaped.

"So it is true," Lord Stark swallowed, looking at the colossal monstrosity of steel and iron. "So... Spartan," He asked the tall warrior, "This is what you came in...?"

"It sustained mild turbulence coming through the atmosphere, but the hull was strong enough to hold until we landed."

"And you say you... _fly_ in this thing?" Robb asked in awe of it.

"Flew, to be accurate," The stranger admitted. "It had already sustained a significant amount of damage, and our landing was more or less an accident. It's in no shape to fly anymore."

"And just what in this world could have possibly damaged such a massive structure?" Eddard asked, eyebrows raised.

"...It's a long story," The green-clad warrior stated enigmatically, before moving into the clearing, beginning his approach towards the great vessel of steel, Eddard and his company following after him.

When they reach the base of the structure, the riders dismount, but see no way inward. Their guide quickly solves the problem by placing his hand on the wall, before strange noises emit from within. Then, like some sorcery of the Dawn Age, the vessel seemed to acknowledge him, a wall of metal gives way with a low hiss, revealing the darkness within. Jon the soldier marches in undeterred, but turns and waits just inside for them to light torches and follow inward. He does not need one, for when he enters the darkness, his helmet emits bright white light from either side, illuminating the hall of metal within with a what seemed to have all the concentrated light and intensity of the rays of the sun.

Yet one more thing for Jon the bastard to marvel in the wake of the man dubbed Spartan, the mysterious giant leading them deeper into the darkness of the great ship of metal.


	4. What the Wolves Dragged In

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Halo. Game of Thrones is property of HBO and George RR Martin, and Halo is property of 343 Industries, Bungie... #$% it, you know the drill by now. Please support the official release!

...Blast these discrepancies between documents and published chapters. They always seem bigger when you're making them, but this is just getting silly. I am sorry that these chapters being so short, but I'm nowhere NEAR as versed in the books as I am the show. SoIaF POV's go on WAAAY longer than the few minutes we get for each POV in any given episode show. I'll try to make them longer from here on out.

Rapture93: Thanks for that nitpick. I forgot that John's the secretive sort, and that SPARTANs are rather partial to who they give out their names to. I've edited the chapters to follow suit more accordingly to John's character.

I'm glad people liked my last chapter with Jon totally in awe of John. But, rather than bore you with the details of what happens inside the Forward Unto Dawn (Because I'm cool like that mwahahaha) We're now cutting to Catelyn, the only sane upper-class mother in Westeros... even if she hates Jon Snow. I was admittedly wanting to do Arya as the next chapter, but Cat's narrative can carry a very long way when (spoiler warning) trying to reconcile the crap-ton of exposition that's about to go down in Winterfell. And we haven't even gotten to the canonical start of the plot yet!

Anywho, let's get to it!

* * *

Catelyn prayed fervently in the sept of Winterfell, Sansa and Mordane kneeling alongside her. They implored the Seven for her lord husband's safe and swift return. Praying that Robb, their eldest son and heir to the Starks' ancestral home, would be unharmed and untouched by whatever awaited them following that dreadful, horrible sight that had filled the sky. She shuddered at the memory of it tearing through the clouds, a great screech filling the air as it fell.

Nearly four days had past since the party had set out to follow after the fallen star. Catelyn did her duties as Lady of Winterfell in her husband's absence with dignity and grace, though she truly could not help but feel helpless inside. There was no telling what awaited him on that fool's errand, but she knew his duty was to guard the North, and by extension, the realm, from such possible dangers. In a bittersweet way, she admired it.

Soon, their prayers were done, and Catelyn sent her eldest daughter to go back with Mordane for another sewing lesson. She herself had more matters to attend to managing the castle, faithful Rodrik and Maester Luwin at her side. For a while, they tended to the affairs of Winterfell as best they could. Then, to her exasperation, she saw Arya and Bran high up on one of the castle walls, both frankly far too high up for her comfort. Luwin and Rodrik shared looks tiredness and bemusement, respectfully.

"Arya! Brandon!" She called out to them, to which her children realized they had been caught, and both began to climb back down.

"It's Father, Mother!" Arya said excitedly when she made her way to the ground, running towards her. "He's on his way back with the riders!"

To that, Catelyn crossed her arms at her children. "What have I told the two of you-no climbing."

"But we were keeping an eye out for Father, we promise!" Bran said, now alongside his sister. As though to confirm the truth in her children's claims, one of the watchers sounded a horn from the nearby tower.

"Aye, milady," Rodrik nodded, "The little lord and lady speak the truth. That'd be the lord returning now."

Catelyn allowed herself to sigh in relief, the look on her face as she looked back to her children softer at the knowledge that her husband was coming home. "Both of you get yourselves cleaned up, and be ready to receive your father. Arya, go find Sansa and tell her to do likewise. Brandon, go and fetch Rickon."

Arya and Brandon seemed relieved to have evaded her further wrath, and scuttled of quickly to their appointed tasks. Gathering herself, Catelyn turned to Rodrik and Luwin. "Come. We must go and meet my husband."

And so they did. Her children gathered along with her and the rest of the castle's residents to meet their returning lord. Ned rode at the front, with Robb at his side, both looking grim. She smiled, truly at ease that both were well, though concerned at their discomfort. She was less pleased at the riders behind them, her smile lessening at Theon and her husband's bastard, Jon Snow, both as equally grave as those in front of them. Following after them were the soldiers, all of them safe as well...

And that was when Catelyn heard it. A low, strange cross of a noise, like a hum interwoven with a growl. And the sight which followed not a moment after sent her eyes wide. Some strange, huge carriage seemingly wrought of metal unlike anything she had ever seen, passed through the gates. Yet is was drawn by no horses or pulled by any men. It's black wheels made strange, intricate tracks behind it in the dirt, the low noise she had heard before intensifying as it drew closer into the castle, before the great thing came to a halt, and the humming noise stopped as it became utterly still.

The rider who emerged would be a sight she would not soon forget.

A giant of a man, clad from head to toe in a strange suit of dull green armor, so tall she thought the Mountain would feel challenged by this enormous creature. His-it had to be a man, how could a woman be so massive- queer helmet completely concealed his face, that strange visor of orange-yellow without any eye-slit for him to see through, and yet he seemed to bear himself just fine. She felt some sense of foreboding from this enigmatic stranger, but aside from his armor, he bore no indication he meant trouble.

However, she returned her attention to her Ned, approaching him gracefully. "Welcome home, my lord," She said gently, embracing him.

"It is good to be home, love," He replied in turn, wrapping his arms around her, before he stared around. While most of the folk were relieved to see their lord's party return in full and in good health, all eyes seemed to be upon that strange soldier. Quickly, her husband dismissed them back to their duties and allowed the soldiers to retire for food and rest. "Cat," He continued, "We must speak in more discreet halls than here. There's much to be told."

* * *

The story would have been unbelievable to hear, preposterous to the point of it being a mummer's farce but for Ned, Robb, Theon and Jon all confirming each others testimonies of the journey within the audience chamber, only them, herself, Lewin, and the stranger within. How they found the man called Spartan just outside the Wolfswood, of him guiding them to the fallen vessel of steel and iron which had flown through the sky and crashed within the woods. Of their trek deep within the cold metal halls of the colossal structure, until their guide had led them to several rooms filled with strange wonders which he had not disclosed to what they were, but one of which being that great carriage he had arrived in.

"So..." Catelyn said slowly, trying to process it all in her head, "It was his vessel which fell through the sky. Where did it come from?" She looked between the four of them, trying to look for an answer.

"...It is not easy to explain, Cat," Ned said in little more than a whisper.

"...Hold on a moment," The green-clad figure finally spoke up after a long moment, his voice having been silent throughout the whole retelling of the past few days. Then, he opened the palm of his hand armored hand. And if Catelyn thought the man extraordinary before, what she saw next would have been something only out of tales of ages past, of a time when magic was said to have been strong in the world, and not an old tale long deprived of legitimacy. For from the man called Spartan's hand, a light bloomed, and suddenly she realized why they had needed to speak alone.

In the man's hand was a small, glowing image of a young woman, her body luminous with blue light. She seemed beautiful, with short hair a darker shade of blue than the pale of her body, which was without clothing yet concealing her of indecency.

"_By the Seven!_" Catelyn gasped. Luwin, beside her, seemed to fare little better.

"What manner of sorcery is this...?" The maester asked in wonder.

"Now you see why I didn't want them seeing you," The green-clad man regarded in a dry tone to the small figure in his hand, before tilting his head up to apparently look at Luwin. "And it's not magic."

"Now, now, Chief," The little figure chided him, "You've been getting to talk to the big boys ever since we got here. And after three years wandering in space, I'd like to speak to a member of my own gender, thank you very kindly."

"Fine," He replied in a resigned tone.

The small image regarded Catelyn again, and as she looked closer at this strange little thing, she could see a warm smile on it's face. "Salutation, Miss... Catelyn, was it? You people have some strange names, I must admit."

Seeing as the little figure had no intention but to speak, Catelyn recomposed herself as best she could. "Y...yes, that is my name. And you...?"

"Cortana, at your service," She replied. "Now, I suppose you want an explanation as to why myself and the big guy here have decided to drop in to your neighborhood, so to speak?"

The lady of Winterfell hesitantly nodded her head.

"Well... it's something of a long story. A _very_ long story. And most of it will probably sound very confusing to you so I'll just explain the last few bits. Me and Chief here were... I guess you could say we've been lost for a while. Our ship was damaged so badly, we couldn't get home ourselves, so we were hoping our friends would rescue us. Sadly, no one came, and soon we lost control of our ship. The rest, I wager, you can piece together."

The story sounded reasonable enough in Catelyn's eyes, but she was still wary of the small creature. "And from where did your great ship come from?"

"Hmm... I suppose you could say we're from a land very far from here," Cortana replied with s shrug, though the words still sounded cryptic. "So far, in fact, that you could sail your ships as far east and west of your land, and you'd never be able to find it. Hence, the reason our ship sailed through the air."

"I must confess I've never heard of such a place," Luwin commented curiously. "No ship we have ever heard of matches that of yours, nor would I think anyone of this world capable of such a wonder."

"You'd be right in that line of thinking, I suppose. We aren't from this world." She was quick to continue, before they could put the implications together. "And before you ask, no, we are not gods or demons or anything supernatural, I assure you. It took these four here a few hours to get that through their heads."

Astonished beyond words, Catelyn could only gape at the tiny figure. Indeed, it was Lewin who spoke next, very slowly. "Then... what manner of creature are you, milady? And your companion? If you say you come from beyond our world, yet not come from realm of the gods..."

"Well..." Cortana replied, as though trying to explain to them in words they could understand. "I suppose it would be hard for me to explain just what I am, so for the sake of your understanding, I'd have to explain just how different our world is from yours. Where we come from is much more advanced than your land, though we'd have been pretty much identical to your level of civilization a little over a thousand years ago. Science and technology have advanced and evolved within that time that..." She trailed off for a moment, looking uncertain.

"Cortana," The man called Spartan said to his companion, before she spoke again.

"It's alright, Chief," She assured him, still looking up at them. "...I am actually a creation of mankind, made through the ingenuity of on of the most brilliant of our race."

"Y...you're saying men can become so enlightened that they can form such wonders... without the aid of higher mysteries...?" Luwin was absolutely incredulous.

"Believe me, I may look like a little fairy to you, but there wasn't any hokes-pokus involved in my making. We're simply that sophisticated."

Catelyn could still only look at the pair in astonishment. To think that there was another land out there where men lived, far beyond the reach of the strongest armies, the most learned maester, or the richest of merchant-lords. Where they lived in levels of wonder and splendor the likes of which she could not even dream or imagine. Where great vessels of steel flew across the skies, among the stars, and beyond.

"...Wondrous," the Maester uttered. "Incredible. What I would have done to have been born in such a marvelous realm."

"Believe me," the green-clad warrior spoke up, "It wasn't a paradise."

Cortana seemed to sigh at that. "Yeah, he's right. The people of our world may be able to travel through the stars, live longer, healthier lives, build great structures which stand the test of time and be able to accomplish what is considered impossible, but you shouldn't be so quick to write us off as all sunshine and flowers. If there's one disease which humans have never been able to kill off, it's their lust for conflict. Just as our race has become more enlightened, so too have we become more deadly. Our ways of waging war against both ourselves and others has marched side by side with the walk of technology, medicine, and ideas. We can destroy things so terribly, so utterly, so _easily_, that your worst nightmares couldn't begin to suggest it's full devastation. It's gotten to the point that if we aren't careful, we can easily destroy ourselves." She then turned to her armored compatriot, a look of regret in her eyes. "...That's why men like him were made. Why they were _needed_."

"And just what is your friend, lady Cortana?" Eddard spoke up suddenly, surprising Catelyn. He eyed the small maiden with those cold gray eyes, but she could see uncertainty-even fear in them. "And what are your intentions here?"

To that, Cortana looked at her lord husband in the eyes, before she said with both clarity and mystery, "The greatest soldier you will ever meet. And we're just trying to find a way home, as impossible as that seems to us." She allowed the words to sink in, letting the silence following her statement permeate in their minds. "I'm done, Chief."

And, like that, the figure vanished into thin air, the light from which she bloomed fading away, and the Spartan closed his hand, before leaving the room himself in utter silence.


	5. Discovering Truths and Reconciliations

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Halo. Game of Thrones is property of HBO and George RR Martin, while Halo is the property of 343 Industries and Bungie... I think.

...Holy carpfish, you people really seem to like this! I must admit I'm enjoying all your positive reviews and hopes that I'll keep doing a good job. I can only try to live up to at least those expectations, so don't be shy to strike some criticism into me if something is wrong!

I will admit, this chapter's kinda weak, and yet again, short, but I'd like to remind everyone that some semblance of canon is still here and that there are other people than the Starks who know about what happened up North. I'm trying not to have too many of these multiple viewpoints per chapter, but if I just stopped at Varys' viewpoint, I'd be stuck, since we have little idea what he was doing after Ned arrived. I have to admit, I honestly have no idea what he'll think of Chief once he sees him. And Baelish... geez, I really wanna have MC burst his head like a grape, but I'll hold back for the sake of avoiding OCC behavior... for now.

Anywho, let's crank this thing up!

* * *

Jon Arryn was dead.

As he entered the Sept of Baelor in his silk slippers which allowed him to move with utter silence, Varys had to admit it a pity to see the former Hand of the King laying there, cold and unmoving, the burial coins over eyes which would never open again. The Lord of the Vale had ever been a bulwark of stability and order to the realm during his tenure under their noble king, Robert Baratheon. The Master of Whispers admired his righteous, just administration, though that same honor and virtue did little to warn him of the danger to his life-him brushing aside Varys' council on the very matter had made that abundantly clear. And thus, sadly, they arrived at their current predicament.

King Robert was by his former Hand's side as the Silent Sisters prepared his body, already drinking heavily, even for so early in the day. No doubt, he grieved greatly for the man he'd known as his surrogate father. Approaching the king, Varys bowed deeply. "Your Grace," He said softly, "If I may offer my condolences to you, for the terrible loss of your closest counselor-"

"Dammit, you bloody eunuch!" Robert growled, turning to face his spymaster, "How do sneak up on people like that?"

"An art I have crafted over many years, your Grace," Varys replied simperingly.

The king snorted. "Yeah? And why have your arts brought you here? Can't you see I'm grieving?!"

"Of course, your Grace," Varys replied carefully, "And I grieve in my own way for the loss of Lord Arryn. Yet, for the sake of the realm, we must find a new candidate for Hand of the King to see to the matters of the small council."

"Seven hells, Varys! Jon's corpse is barely cold and you're so quick to throw away his memory?!" Robert's face was flush with a moment of his house's words.

"Not at all, your Grace. Would Lord Arryn not want you to swiftly find a man worthy of his position, and ensure the realm's stability?" To that Robert's anger waned, his gaze cast down sadly to the lifeless body of his former guardian.

Robert grumbled, "Yes... it'd be like old Jon to think of the greater good before all else. But who have I to consider my Hand?"

"There are several options available to you, your Grace," Varys assured him, folding his hands into his sleeves. "Several of which are within your own family. There are either of your brothers to consider, to begin with."

"What?" Robert looked at him incredulously, "Gods, no. Stannis is as prickly and uncomfortable as that damn throne I'm forced to sit on. If it were up to him, I'd get no wine or whores to keep me company! And Renly! The prancing fool's just a boy! I saw him bloody near faint just 'cause he saw a man's eye come out of it's socket!"

Varys winced at the queasy image. "Then, may I suggest your father-in-law, Lord Tywin? He served under the Mad King, to be sure, but during that time, he made the land prosper, and filled the royal coffers. Not to mention that he secured your throne for you."

"Hmm," Robert muttered, before shaking his head. "No, not that scheming lion. I'm already surrounded by enough of those smug, satisfied Lannisters as it is! No, there's only one man left I know I can rely on in this whole damn country."

"And that man is...?" Varys asked, curious to know who could better fulfill the duties of the King's Hand.

"Eddard Stark. I trust that man more than anyone else in this world. He'd clear out this den of vipers and rats and keep me sane while I eat, drink, and whore my way to an early grave."

While Varys' face gave no indication otherwise, he grimaced inwards. He had no qualms about Eddard Stark, oh no. Truthfully, from the sound of his reputation, he took honor, justice, and responsibility very seriously-something Varys admired. However, while such qualities were well suited as a leader and administrator... well, they did little to avert the death of the previous Hand. Honorable men did not last long in King's Landing. He would hate to see another good man fall to the machinations of the plotters and schemers here in the city.

And besides, something told Varys that the Warden of the North would have an affair of his own that needed dealing. "As fortuitous as it is to already decide your Hand so quickly, your Grace, I must confess it may be unwise to elect Lord Eddard, at least at the present moment."

At that, the king's eyes became as dark and stormy as his homelands. "Oh? And why is that?" He asked menacingly. "You think my Ned's not good enough?"

"Not at all, your Grace," The Spider replied, "Eddard Stark is a fine choice. Only, my little birds in the North have informed me just recently of a most foreboding rumor which the Starks have gone to unusual lengths to keep quiet. One which, while rather fanciful, is a persistent rumor nevertheless. Persistent enough that Lord Eddard has already found himself compelled to act upon it."

"What? You're saying the North's threatened? By what? A horde of wildlings a hundred-thousand strong, laying siege to the Wall?"

"Not threatened at all... though it is not a matter to take lightly nevertheless."

"And what rumor is this, Master of Whispers, that my best friend would deny my request of him as Hand of the King?" Robert asked almost mockingly, drinking into his glass of Arbor gold.

"Tell me, your Grace, have you heard of the Fiery Star which appeared in the northern sky some weeks ago?"

"What of it? It was striking, I'll confess, and it was funny how the maesters were in an uproar over it, but it's just something in the sky."

"Yes, something that _was_ in the sky," Varys emphasized. "Something that fell to the earth, just near Winterfell. Something which ha caught the attention of the Starks to the degree that Lord Eddard deemed it prudent to investigate."

"And, what did they find? Some rock the gods decided to chuck down upon us?"

"More than that, your Grace," The eunech replied cryptically. "The tale varies from one to another, but there are some things which remain uniform throughout it all-of a great vessel made of steel, larger than any ship and many a castle, which fell from the sky. The words, 'Forward Unto Dawn' are spoken among my birds' whispers, yet I cannot discern as to what it means, nor of where such a ship could come from."

"Hmph. Nonsense. A drunken mummer couldn't have come up with such malarkey," Robert grunted, before hoarsely calling out for more wine.

"But... there is another song on my birds' lips," Varys said carefully. "Something which frightens me. They say that not but a few days after the Fiery Star fell, Lord Stark returned to Winterfell... with someone unlike anything they had ever seen. Tall enough to rival the Clegane brothers, clad head-to-toe in strange gray-green armor, and riding a great metal carriage with strange tracks which is not pulled by horse or man." As he confided in the king all his birds had told him, Varys saw with satisfaction that Robert was listening with increased intent at each passing description, a look of curiosity and realization on his face. Perhaps now, he would be more open-minded to the topic.

"And you think these rumors are true, then?"

"Again, your Grace, we cannot know the truth unless we see it for ourselves; after all, it is but a rumor... but a persistent one. And persistent rumors, as I stated earlier, may often have a grain of truth to them."

The king seemed to ponder on this, before downing the rest of his glass. "Then I'll head north and kill two birds with one stone. Ned'll be my Hand, and we'll see about these rumors of yours."

"Forgive me, my King, but is that wise?" Varys asked, "Would it not be more prudent to await a raven from Winterfell to explain what has-"

"I'll decide what is to be done, Spider!" Robert roared. "I stand by my decision, and you'd do well to not question me again."

"Of course, your Grace- a thousand apologies. With your leave, I would return to other matters in need of my attendance."

Robert waved him off with a slur, becoming deeper in his cups with each glass he emptied. But while the king drowned his concerns away, Varys' mind was working at a break-neck pace, the cogs in his mind turning at the news he'd relayed to Robert and the latter's choice to head north. While the Baratheon king's decision to elect Eddard Stark as Hand was something Varys had foreseen, the matter regarding the stranger in the North was something to ponder on. Varys may not have been one to take to idle fancy, but neither was he the sort to ignore viable information.

This man who allegedly came from the Fiery Star, Varys had a sinking feeling, may have some role to play in the coming months. But whether it was as the greatest boon to his cause, the most dire threat to those very plans he had strove for years to bring to fruition, or something else entirely; he could not say. Mayhap it was just a rumor, something he need not pay heed to. But if, as he had said twice over, there was truth to the tale...

Then the game could very well take courses the spymaster couldn't begin to fathom.

Time was of the essence. Events across the Narrow Sea deemed it necessary to ensure there were no unknowns in this plan. He'd need to send one of his birds to Winterfell to investigate... perhaps the king's party northward?

* * *

"This is one of those moments where you look back on all of those technological commodities you always took for granted and only now realize just how much they meant to you, isn't it?" Cortana asked smugly, her projection looking bemusedly from his empty armor as John sat in the tub of scalding hot water.

"..." John simply looked blankly ahead, not minding the nearly blistering bath, but was somewhat agitated that he couldn't just take a shower.

"Now, tell me that water doesn't feel good for you," The AI continued, this time sincere. "After almost three years in cryostasis, a nice hot bath surely does wonders for the human body."

"I really don't see why it's necessary," The Spartan replied, "And besides, as long as it took to get all of this heated up properly, all of it ends up getting dirty anyway."

"Chief, how long were you in that suit, exactly?" She asked rhetorically. "I don't care if the armor absorbs moisture, you stink! You need to clean yourself for both our sakes, even if in-door plumbing doesn't exist here. Besides, this gives me enough time to spruce up your armor a tad."

John begrudgingly had to admit Cortana was right, but he still wished he could just take a shower. He took a look around the small hut he and Cortana occupied over the last few weeks. The Stark family had offered him lodging within the castle, but he had only asked for one of the houses in the outlying town. It took him several trips-and consequentially, nearly another week-to haul the cargo he'd brought from the Dawn back there, and had garnered more attention than he felt comfortable with, but it was worth it in the end. Foodstuffs, medical supplies, munitions, and, via Cortana's direction, something to help her keep his armor in good condition and her own personal database to inhabit.

"Plus, the locals aren't too bad. Sure, they're... simple, so to speak, and they're a little afraid of their new, big mister space-man, but it sure beats being alone in the middle of space. I think those children of theirs seem particularly curious of you." Cortana giggled.

"Yeah," He deadpanned sarcastically, "They just love me."

"Aw, don't be such a sourpuss. You're just naturally good with kids is all. That little fire-spit of a girl... Arya, I think? She seems particularly eager to try and spy on you."

"And she needs to listen to her parents and _stop_ spying on me. Why does she find me so curious, anyway?"

"Oh, I dunno, you fell out of the sky in a giant metal tin can, show up with hyper-advanced technology this world can hardly dream of, act all dark and mysterious, show on several occasions you're superhumanly strong and fast..."

"I get it." John continued scrubbing himself of the sweat and grime on his skin until it was pink. The quiet in the town and castle was rather foreign to him. As a soldier, he was almost always either training or on duty, with little time for leisure or relaxation. With no enemy to face other than the elements attempting to conquer his gear, he felt rather redundant.

And yet, despite that, his uselessness wasn't the biggest thing that bothered him.

"It feels strange," The Spartan commented.

"What's strange?" Cortana asked curiously.

"I still don't understand how there are humans here. The fact that we've never encountered them before all this is one thing, but how has the Covanant not found them? And how did the Halo arrays miss this place?"

"Who knows," She shrugged, "For all I can tell, we could have jumped to an unexplored end of the galaxy, somewhere outside the Milky Way entirely, an alternate universe, maybe even traveled back in time. Doesn't change the fact we're pretty much stuck on this rock unless someone picks up the beacon. So why so tense? The point of a bath is primarily to clean yourself, sure, but it's also supposed to be therapeutic. Just relax and enjoy the peace and quiet while we can. For once, we've got no Covanant, no Flood, no Forerunner super-weapons..."

"At least not yet," The Spartan retorted.

"Oh, for crying out loud, you're just being paranoid. If they were here, do you think they'd have just let us mosey on down to the planet like we did?"

"It never hurts to be cautious."

Cortana looked at him incredulously, tilting her head. "After all we had to go through; you know, saving humanity a dozen times over plus all sentient life in the galaxy **twice**, destroying the Flood once and for all, making peace with the Covenant, and frankly all the other lovely craziness we got out of, you can't even think you might deserve a _liiiittle_ bit of R-and-R?"

"And how do we know that our fight's over? They might still need us back home."

"Well, I don't see any UNSC ships launching through the sky, so no one's picked up the beacon yet. And, no offense to our hospitable hosts, but they seem to lack the knowledge or resources to help put the _Dawn_ back together."

To that, John had no counter-argument, so he stayed quiet.

When Cortana spoke again, her voice was softer. "You've been fighting for so long... can't you realize you might not have to fight anymore?"

"..." He turned to face her. Cortana seemed fine now, but he knew what happened to smart AIs after a set number of years. And with what the Gravemind put her through, with all the information she had gathered over the years... "I have to find Dr. Halsey. She can-"

"Don't make a girl a promise you know you can't keep," She said with a resigned tone, her eyes sad. "Just... relax for a while. Rest. You've earned it, John. I'd like what time we have left to..."

For a moment, there was an obvious, painful silence between the two, like a gaping wound bleeding for all to see. Then, the water ruffled noisily as John finally decided to lean back into the tub and relax his muscles, giving in to Cortana's request."...We'll find a way to fix you, I promise."

To that, her lips formed a melancholic smile, but he could also see hope in her eyes.

Because when John made a promise, even if it seemed impossible... he kept it.


	6. Curious Arya

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Halo. Game of Thrones and Song of Ice and Fire are property of HBO, George RR Martin, and George RR Martin, respectively; Halo is property of 343 Industries, and, just to be safe, Bungie, because I'd rather be paranoid about being banned rather than just being banned.

Now to cut to everyone's favorite little BAMF Stark, Arya! I have noted that Arya would have a chapter soon, as well as the fact that John got very little screen-time so far to interact with the Stark household. This is my (first) response to that. This is about a week before the raven announcing Robert's ride north.

* * *

It had been roughly a fortnight since the stranger had come to Winterfell with his big, giant carriage, and since then, Arya had made it her mission to try and figure out as much about him as she could. Of course, her father had ordered everyone in the castle as well as the winter town to not disturb the queer individual, but that just made Arya more curious and more determined to figure him was the talk of the whole castle, from the gossiping washer women to her father, mother, and older brothers whispering behind closed doors. She got the impression that they were rather afraid of him, but Arya found him fascinating. Certainly more than those boring and horrid lessons with Septa Mordane.

She'd thus far managed to sneak into the town in her boy's cloths and breeches relatively undetected thus far, and over the first week since he arrived, the man called Spartan had made trips in that giant metal wagon apparently back to his supposedly even bigger ship which flew through the sky, each time returning with some odd baubles or another which Arya couldn't at all recognize.

She was about to sneak out into the town again-she always timed it right when the guards on the gate were eating lunch and made sure no one watched her go, when all of a sudden, she heard her little brother Bran's voice above.

"I knew it!" He said aloud, his head poking out from the ramparts of the gate. "You're going to go see him, aren't you?"

"Shh! Shut up!" She hissed back at him as he began climbing down the portcullis to the ground beside her.

"You know father and mother told us not to," Bran accused her.

"And what are you going to do, tell?" She crossed her arms at him, raising an eyebrow. "Hasn't mum told you ten-score times not to be climbing about the castle?"

"Well..." He peered down guiltily, muttering.

Arya decided to pity her brother, a mischievous grin on her face. "Besides, you want to go see him, too, I bet. He's the only interesting thing that's happened around here in a long time."

To that, Bran peered up at his sister, a glint in his eyes.

"C'mon, we can go together. The guards aren't looking right now, so we'd best hurry." Without another word, she started running out the gate, not waiting on Bran either way.

Clearing the castle and the guards entirely, Arya and Bran made their way carefully through the town. Much of it was unoccupied, as it was mostly meant for the smallfolk in the outlying land around Wintefell during, well, winter, but the brothel was active as ever. And just when she thought they'd make it through without trouble...

"Well, if it isn't the little lady and her lordship brother," Came a voice like honey from the upper floor as they crept along. Arya grimaced as she peered up to see the red-haired Ros looked down from the window. "Going to gander at that tall, dark, strapping soldier who fell from the sky again?"

"Yes, and for the last time, I'm not a lady!" Arya blurted back, before she shook her head. "Look, don't tell Theon we were here, please? He doesn't want us going near the Spartan anymore than my other brothers."

"Hmm..." The pretty woman drawled with a smile. "Aye, I'll keep my lips pursed like the Iron Bank, little lady." Her smile broadened when Arya stuck her tongue out at her. "But since it's the both of you I'll be keeping a secret for, I'll need to ask a favor in turn."

Arya grunted. "Fine. What is it?"

"Tell the man, if you see him, that some of us ladies here are worried about him. Always making those long trips, carrying all that heavy cargo by his big, muscular, quiet lonesome..." Ros's face seemed queer at that moment, her eyes closed with a deep breath. "We girls just think a man shouldn't be such a stranger, you know? We sure would appreciate if you let him know he's... welcome, in our house."'

"Fine, fine," Arya rolled her eyes, before pulling on her brother and striding towards the end of town. "We'll do it. C'mon, Bran."

* * *

"I... think he's not here, Arya," Bran whispered as he peeked into the house through the high window.

"Of course he's not here, stupid," She replied curtly. "That big wagon if his is gone, so he's off on another of those trips to his ship. If he were here, he'd catch us and then where'd we be?"

"Well, we can't get in, the door's bound to be locked."

"Yes, we can get in. We're just not going to use the door." She led him to the back of the hut, rasping her knuckles across the wall. "I used to have hiding places all over the winter town whenever I wanted to get away from Mordane's lessons, and if I recall rightly... Aha! There it is!" A section of the wooden wall sounded hollow at her tapping, and she knelt down to the ground, digging up the dirt with her hands until she uncovered a hidden door-bar, then pulled back with all her strength to open a secret door into the hut.

After both of them crawled through into the hut's relative dark, both look in wonder around them.

All within the hut, there were strange baubles and odd contraptions, tools and equipment than put Maester Luwin and Mikken's stores to shame. Everything the Spartan had brought from his great metal ship, Arya wagered. "Woah..." She uttered with awe, a smile broadening across her face.

"Okay, we've seen it, Arya," Bran pleaded behind her. "Let's head back before we're caught..."

"Stop being such a milk-drinker. He shouldn't be back for another hour or so from his trip, and no one else is in this house but him..."

"A-hem."

Both of them suddenly gasped at the sound of a woman's voice, wheeling around to the source-and were utterly stunned by what they saw.

The small but otherworldly image of a woman was looking at them with her arms over her chest. Arya would have instantly thought her to be a very pretty lady, but her whole body seemed to glow with a blue light, strange patterns seeming to hide her modesty and otherwise utterly without a hint of clothing. The woman spoke again, and by now, both Bran and Arya had fallen right on their rumps onto the floor, gaping in fear, wonder, and awe at the strange creature. "Alright, you've definitely gotten your hand caught in the cookie jar this time, little missy. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to be trespassing into other people's homes? Peeking through windows and sneaking glances on multiple occasions is one thing, but breaking and entering? Definite no-no."

"Y...you saw that...?" Arya gaped, incredulous. She thought she had been perfectly stealthy all those times before!

She raised an eyebrow at her. "Of course I did. I thought it was kind of cute, how Chief had some curious little admirer. But I don't think he'll be happy to hear how you sneaked in here without permission-and I doubt your parents will be pleased, either."

"We weren't going to steal anything, we promise!" Bran defended the both of them, though he seemed rather scared of the lady.

"We just wanted to... well, have a look," Arya added. "Your big friend always brings these queer things, but other than that big wagon of his, we never got to see what they were, or what they do."

"I will admit Chief tends to put people off on a... need-to-know basis. But in your case, I'd say it's justified. There are dozens of things in here which you could easily hurt or even kill yourself with. Suffice to say, this is all big-boy stuff."

Arya bowed her head in defeat. "Fine, we'll leave, but... could you please not tell anyone about this? We didn't mean any trouble."

"Well, I suppose as long as you've both learned your lesson, I can let you off the hook just this once," The glowing lady sighed. "But no more sneaking in here, understand? Just knock from now on if you want to come in."

"But, our father said we couldn't..."

"Hm? Oh, that explains it," She replied with comprehension in her eyes. "Mister... erm, _Lord_ Stark wants Chief to have some privacy." She then brought her hand to her chin, as though thinking on something. "Well, if your father says you shouldn't come here on your own, there's little else you can do, is there?"

Arya and Bran both shook their heads. Their father's word was law in Winterfell, even to his family.

"Well, if that's the case, you three hurry on back now."

"Yes, my lady," She and Bran said gratefully, "Thank you, my lady."

"Please, you don't need to call me 'my lady'," She said with an amused chuckle. "Cortana's just fine. Now hurry up and skit, before Chief decides to come back, okay?"

Both nodded furiously, scuttling back to the secret door, then crawling back out of the hut.

Unknown to Arya as she and her little brother dashed their way back to the castle, the lady known as Cortana had a contemplative look on her face, as though the children had brought something to her attention.

* * *

The next morning, when Arya was breaking her fast with the rest of her family, the youngest Stark daughter's thoughts were filled with the events in the hut, with the blue lady, Cortana. She looked very pretty, and also looked human, but Arya knew no human glowed with a luminous blue light, nor had those strange symbols which seemed to streamed across her skin like drops of rain on a glass window. Bran had thought she was one of the Children, like from Old Nan's stories, but Arya didn't think so, since the Children were from the forest, not the stars. She paid little mind to her food, which caught her mother's eyes.

"Arya, you've hardly touched your meal," She said with concern in her voice. "Does something trouble you?"

"Maybe she just swallowed some nasty bug and now it's making her sick," Sansa sniggered to Arya's outrage.

"Shut up! I did not!" She yelled, causing both her father and Robb to feign rolling eyes but truthfully trying to hide their grins. Their mother was less amused, by the look of her.

"Well," Her father spoke, continuing the conversation, "Something is clearly on your mind-after all, you not stuffing your face with bacon and eggs is as much a sight as the Wall falling." At that, all of them shared a chuckle.

"It's just..." Arya started, looking up at her parents, "It's about that stranger, father-Spartan." She noticed all too well at the sharp change in her mother and father's eyes, as well as Robb's. "He's been here going on a fortnight, coming back and forth from the castle with his odd stuff. But since he talked with you when he first came, he hasn't even bothered coming up to the castle."

"He's a foreigner, Arya," Sansa said with a distasteful look on her face. "Not even a noble. He has no place here in the castle unless father or mother calls on him."

"Sansa!" Their mother scolded, "You mustn't speak so coldly of him. He keeps to himself and his tongue is foreign, yes, but that does not mean you should be disdainful him as though he were a common street urchin. He is our guest for the time being, and thus is a man you will treat with respect." She then turned to face Arya herself. "We are rendering him the privacy he has respectfully requested, and unless he asks of us, we shall not disturb him." She then looked at her younger daughter with a raised eyebrow, a tone of finality in her voice, "And I will hear nothing of you sneaking off to do that very thing."

Arya looked down to hide her blush, not wanting her mother to suspect her of what she had just been accused of. "Well, I know we have to not bother him, but..." She muttered, "Why is it when you speak of him, you all seem so... scared? Is he dangerous?"

"He's thus far done nothing to wrong us, but he is from a land we are by no means knowledgeable of," Robb replied carefully, as though he had chosen the words as one would pluck a flower from a field. "And as mother said, he has asked to be left to his own devices."

"Do you know how long he intends to stay, father?" Bran piped in, curiosity in his voice.

"He has not said of yet," The lord of Winterfell looked into Bran's eyes as he spoke, "But he has promised to not be a burden to us. Regardless, you must respect his desire to be left in peace until..." Her father looked behind them, towards the door to the dining hall, as though something had caught his attention. When Arya turned to look, she saw Lewin, Rodrik Cessel, and the latter's nephew, Jory, enter the hall with a shared look of slight apprehension on their faces. Her father, mother, and elder brother's eyes grew worried at the sight of all three of them.

"I ask your pardon, Lord Eddard," The aged maester said apologetically, "We did not mean to disturb you breaking your fast before your day's start, but you had asked I come to you posthaste when the matter concerned..."

"The Spartan," He finished gravely. "What has happened?"

"He's requested an audience with your family, my lord," Jory explained. "Simply walked up to the castle and asked for your presence."

Arya's parents and Robb exchanged worried glances, before her father answered with a nod, "Send him in. And shut the door after him."

With a bow, Jory left the room, and not long after, an odd noise could be heard, about at the pace of one's footsteps, becoming slightly louder and louder, before the armored figure appeared through the doorway, actually ducking down to get in due to his immense height. Even Ser Rodrik seemed short in comparison, his full height not even reaching his armored shoulder blades. The armor itself, a dull gray tinted with the slightest pinch of green, was stranger than suit Arya had ever seen, thick and strong, intricately yet unceremoniously patterned, with that queer black suit beneath. His helmet completely hid his face, the only indication he was looking towards them was that odd orange visor over his face. He wasn't holding any of the weird objects he was always carrying, the things which Jon, Robb, and Theon had told her were his weapons. And then, for the first time, she heard him speak, his voice deep and slightly gravely. "I apologize for interrupting," He said politely yet frankly, his voice surprisingly clear from beneath his helmet.

"'Tis no trouble, we were just finishing," Her father replied. "You have asked for myself and my family, and here we are. Is something wrong?"

"No, your hospitality has been and still is appreciated. My associate would wish to speak to you, if she may."

Arya knew he likely meant that Cortana lady, but she didn't see her anywhere in sight. Her father nodded nevertheless, glancing between her older sister, herself, and her little brothers. "She may."

Extending his hand, the Spartan opened his palm, before, to all the children's amazement, the blue lady appeared in a flash of light, Sansa gasping in shock while Bran and Rickon both looked in wonder at her. With an inclination of her head, the lady spoke. "Sorry if I surprised you, Mister and Misses Stark," She said in an apologetic tone. "I hate to interrupt, but I felt like me and Chief here needed to speak to you."

"Concerning what?" Arya's mother asked, and although she still sounded worried, she seemed less so since her children didn't react badly to lady Cortana.

"Well, like big guy here just said, we've been staying under your care for a while now, and we certainly aren't complaining. Chief here really likes the food you've given us-particularly the venison stew."

"Cortana," Spartan started, but was cut off by his little friend.

"Oh, hush, now Chief," She chided like a mother to him. "Like I was saying, you've been wonderful hosts for us, despite our not-so-subtle and rather abrupt arrival. Granted, we did ask for some privacy, and you've been more than generous in that regard, but... well, I for one think it'd be rude if we just keep ourselves hidden away like a bunch of cooky hermits while you worry yourselves over wondering just what in the world we're doing by our lonesome. And, no, don't worry; we understand you're still uneasy around us."

At that, Arya was surprised to see a slight look of shame in her parents' and Robb's eyes.

"Truthfully," She continued, "To a certain degree, we don't wholly understand you, ourselves. True, your civilization is remarkably similar to our own centuries past, but we still don't know much of anything about your lands, who rules them, and the customs you follow. To that end, I would like to have an... exchange of knowledge, so to speak. Your history for our history."

Lord Stark looked warily at the blue lady. "You mean... you wish to share such a precious thing, all for the knowledge of our land?"

Cortana raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, if Chief and I are going to be here for a while, I'd like to know a little more about where we're staying before we start asking around for help rebuilding our ship. Plus," Here, she turned to look at the younger Stark children, Arya included, a conspiratorial smile broadening across her lips, "I think your little ones might just pass out from curiosity otherwise."

"Cortana... are you sure?" The Spartan asked his companion.

"Chief, don't you remember our discussion last night? About our duty to the whole of mankind?"

"...I do," He relented, nodding.

To that, Arya, Bran, and Rickon's eyes all turned to their parents, excitement and child-like wonder in their eyes. Lord and Lady Stark could only glance at each of their, children, before sighing. Luwin interjected after a long moment of silence, saying diplomatically, "My lord and lady, I believe we should indulge our guests in this venture. I believe there is much that can be learned from their knowledge; much that can be used to the betterment for your people, if not the whole of the realm."

Sharing a glance, Arya's parents seemed to ponder it between the two of them, before her mother seemed to nod at her father, perhaps in acceptance, and then he looked back towards Cortana, an uncertain yet determined gleam in his gray eyes.

"So be it. In exchange for our knowledge of the land, you shall offer the knowledge of yours, in both the betterment of future relations between us, as well as the betterment of my people."


	7. From My World, To Yours

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Halo. Otherwise, why the wasabi sauce would I have bothered putting up this disclaimer, why is my writing ten times less descriptive and food-porny than Bad Santa's, and why haven't I made a reference to crouch-humping? Game of Thrones is property of HBO and George RR Martin, while Halo is property of 343 Industries. There, I finally said it, because I'm getting sick of always having to say Bungie and Microsoft and I am just defeating the purpose of this whole narrative aren't I?

Well, f***.

* * *

"So... let me get this straight," Cortana said in an incredulous manner as she spoke with Maester Luwin, her hologram sitting atop her projector within her and Chief's hut. "Your seasons last... _**years**_?"

Luwin nodded in confirmation, sitting down adjacent to the smart AI in a wooden chair; quill, parchment, and ink bottle right nearby as he scribbled down notes. "Yes, though the span of those seasons tends to fluctuate, and is usually difficult to accurately predict. But summers have been known to last a decade at a time, while a whole generation of men could be born, grow, and have children of their own before they see the end of our longest winters. Autumn usually takes around a year to pass between summer and winter."

It had been several days since she'd convinced John to open up more to their hosts. As always, he was rather reluctant, on account of 'revealing vital UNSC operations,' or 'jeopardizing strategic intel', but she knew damn well Chief was only coming up with that kind of horseradish because he was about the most socially awkward person on the planet. Of course they weren't going to reveal that kind of information-these people could hardly understand anything from the twentieth century, much less use it against them. Besides, regardless of the fact the UNSC was here or not, John, and by extension, her, had a responsibility to help humanity in any way they could; especially if they didn't possess the same level of civilization as theirs. With both of their efforts combined, they could help plant the seeds of progress and enlightenment, so that, one day, perhaps far in the future, should the UNSC discover that world, their efforts will have yielded the fruit for a brighter future between the two long-lost branches of humanity. And they would know that it was by their hands that, for once, rather than destroying something for the sake of humanity, they had managed to _make_ something which would benefit the countless millions from that moment onwards.

After that, it had all been a matter of encouraging Chief the next morning to speak to the Stark family.

At the present, John had taken Lord Ned, his eldest son, and that cocky guy named Theon back to the wreckage of the _Dawn_, along with an albeit smaller cadre of men following. In the meantime, Cortana was having a frankly enlightening experience with the elderly scholar, as he helped her to understand a growing number of discrepancies which made her initial impression of the planet's similarities to Earth seem a bit too hasty.

Luwin's knowledge was limited to say the least in comparison to her own; but the fact remained that, for men of their time, Luwin and his fellow 'maesters,' as they were called, were extraordinarily knowledgeable. They spent years gathering and perfecting their arts, forging chains whose individual links signified what they had gained a level of mastery of. In comparison, during Earth's Dark, Middle, and even Renaissance eras, such levels of omnidiscipleship were almost unheard of, save for the greatest of minds of those days. Of course, maesters only possessed general-but advanced-knowledge of those academics, and usually nothing revolutionary, but the fact remained that they were a highly sophisticated order for their time.

And, by the sound of it, they needed to be. Westeros, for lack of better terms, sounded _brutal_ in comparison to Earth.

"A winter that can last decades on end, yet can fluctuate without warning..." Cortana placed a hand on her forehead. "But how is that possible? I've honestly seen many worlds just as inhabitable, and even if their rate of climate change is different, there's always a sort of stability to the time-frame for each season..."

"Curious," Luwin muttered, writing away on his parchment. "So, do the seasons of your world change at a different pace than ours, Lady Cortana?"

"By a long shot," She sighed. "A single year will see spring, summer, fall, and winter all in rapid succession, with winter basically fringing at the beginning and end of each year."

"Incredible..." He mouthed in return, continuing to write. "While that would mean your other seasons do not last nearly as long as ours, and thus are unable to yield as many crops over a long time period uncontested, your winters are only a few months long, making that small window of time more than likely enough. Doubtlessly, I would say that it would be remarkably easier to live on your world."

"I'd have to agree. How exactly has your kind survived for so long on this freakish planet, especially this far up?"

"I will confess, the winters here in the North are exceptionally harsh. The snowfall that builds up out here have been known to become so high, entire men could be lost beneath them."

Cortana was still shocked at how obscene the planet's seasonal changes were. It just seemed too erratic to be natural. She found it highly doubtful that the planet's peculiar climate was the result of pollution-there was no Industrial Revolution. _Yet_, if she had anything to say about it. "And how, pray tell, do you store up enough food and supplies to last for such a long time?"

"By using our summers as best we can," Luwin replied gravely, yet simply. "We store our foodstuffs in vast quantities to last as long as possible, rationing our stores until we may sew new crops when winter gives way to spring."

"...I think I've gained a new respect for your people, Maester Luwin," Cortana admitted.

"You honor us, Lady Cortana," The aged man smile humbly. "Perhaps the knowledge you choose to grace us with shall guide us to a brighter future-at least, if my colleagues at the Citadel deem my notes to not be the stuff of madness."

"Oh, my! Such a wonderful compliment," The smart AI beamed. "For that, I'll give you... this!" In an instant, she dissipated her holoform, replacing it with the the schematics of a construct of the Renaissance period.

The maester narrowed his eyes at the blueprints, tilting his head to the side in a slightly confused fashion. "My goodness... what sort of contraption is that?"

"Oh, a little something called the printing press. It's only the most important innovation in our civilization's earlier transition from your period."

"A... printing press?" He blinked at her uncomprehendingly.

"It's a device which was used to evenly print ink onto a medium such as paper or cloth. By using a system of fixed pieces of metal letters, it would be pressed in ink, then onto the paper, thus allowing for the rapid and mass production of texts."

"Hmm..." Luwin seemed to think on her words for a moment, before his eyes widened in comprehension. "Wait... you mean, by using this apparatus, a man would only have to carve the letters from metal, place them in the order he desires, then... by the gods, it's ingenious! Books and articles could be produced over and over again at a mere fraction of the time it would take to write!"

"Bingo, my fellow intellectual," Cortana said with a smirk as her holoform replaced the schematics. "A single one of these could produce more than than three-and-a-half-thousand pages in a single day, at full pace. Compare that to the amount of time necessary to copy or write works by hand, and... well, you do the math."

The poor man looked like he had just about suffered a heart attack, from the way he sat-stunned, his eyes widened even further, his mouth agape at her. Not that she could blame him, really; discovering what led to Earth's modern era wasn't something minor, even to an intellect as advanced as Cortana. "Would you like to have a sketch, Lewin?"

The question seemed to bring him back to reality as he shook off his shock, a disappointed look on his face. "I must ask your pardon, Lady Cortana," He said apologetically, "But while my hands are capable for writing, I'm afraid my craft in drawing has had little practice. And even were it so, I doubt I would have had the capacity to draft such an intricate design, nor find the resources to construct it." After a moment, however, he raised an eyebrow at her, a sort of curious expectancy dancing in his eyes. "Unless, however..."

To that, Cortana grinned conspiratorially at him. "I love it when people place faith in my abilities. Yes, as a matter of fact, I can."

With a snap of her digital fingers, a nearby device mechanically whirred to life, as sheets upon sheets of paper landed neatly in an underlying tray, Luwin all the while looking at it like he had for pretty much everything else they had brought in. It had taken some time for her to assemble-in no small part thanks to John's big, clumsy soldier hands-but she had been able to produce a sort of... what was the word? MacGyver. Right, she'd made a sort of MacGyver printer, made up from various remnants from the _Dawn_. "You'll find everything you need all in there. Lists of materials necessary plus instructions to follow for assembly and repair, guidelines to follow in how to format texts, formulas on the mixtures of ink you'll need, diagrams of the measurements on which to scale the entire machine as well as individual intricacies, and of course a manual explaining how to actually use it."

She saw the maester pick up the papers in an almost reverent manner, looking back at her as though he were asking for her permission to take them. "This... I cannot properly express my gratitude for this... blessing, my lady."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic-I'm happy to help," She chuckled. "You can just make it your little project to work on, if you want."

"Nevertheless, I am grateful. When I have finished reading these, I shall send a raven to the Citadel. Doubtlessly, this will constitute a great deal of attention from my order. If we can reproduce these marvels, our ability to share and reproduce knowledge will..." He shook his head in disbelief. "It is almost unreal to think of the possibilities."

"It'll do more than that, I can tell you," She assured him. "With this will come an increase of ideas. Those you consider illiterate would have the chance to possess books and letters of their own to read, more ways in which they can conceive and describe the world around them. With the spread of knowledge and ideas will come the enlightenment of your species. Take time to ponder that, my friend."

Not a moment too soon, both heard the shuffling of feet just outside the hut. "It seems the children have arrived," Cortana sighed. "I best brace myself, shouldn't I?"

Luwin nodded sagely. "The three youngest of Lord Stark's children can be regaled easily enough with tales and histories, I assure you. They're quite taken with the stories Old Nan would tell them, so I can imagine their excitement of hearing about your land, especially from such an individual as yourself, Lady Cortana."

"Oh, then that shouldn't be a problem," Cortana laughed. "I may not have a lot of experience with them, but I have a certain affinity for children."

And like that, Arya, Bran, and their little brother Rickon practically knocked down the door as they burst in.

* * *

Much to Cortana's delight, the three little ankle biters were just as polite as they had been the day before, if more than a little excited and quite a bit more curious towards her. Fortunately, one of the older boys, Jon Snow, she remembered, was watching over them, making sure their curiosity didn't give them cause to go touching anything they weren't supposed to.

Arya, the oldest, was a fiery little thing, and quite the tomboy, just from the dirty boy cloths she wore. Bran was a sweet, very thoughtful boy, his eyes shy yet curious as he looked at her. Rickon, who couldn't have been more than six, had eyes wide with wonder, laughing and giggling all the same.

"So, what is your land like, Lady Cortana?" Bran asked as he and his siblings sat down in chairs around her, all keenly focused on her holoform.

"Well, you could say it's a lot like yours, but it'd also be right to say it's also very different," She told them patiently. She dissipated her holoform to show them a projection of Earth, at which they marveled with those adorably wide eyes she'd come to enjoy. "There are quite a few continents here, with two areas roughly at the top and bottom where it's extremely cold. As you get towards the middle, it gets warmer."

"So it's round where you come from?" Arya wondered oddly. "I thought it was flat, like here."

"Actually," Bran interjected, "I remember maester Lewin telling me that our world's also round." He looked up to the aging wise man, who nodded in approval.

"I'm glad to see you've been paying attention to your studies, Lord Bran. While we have not been able to confirm it, my order has found evidence leading to that conclusion."

To that, Arya simply scowled and harrumphed, Bran looking at her triumphantly.

"Lady Cortana?" Little Rickon asks with a tilted head, his little voice curious in the way only small children could be.

"Yes?" The smart AI asked him with a smile. "What's on your mind, Rickon?"

"What are you? Are you one of the Children?"

The question was so innocent, but Arya, Bran, Jon, and Luwin all shared nervous glances, thinking that she had been offended. In truth, Cortana wasn't; she was, however, curious about what 'Children' meant. "Well, that depends. What are the Children?"

"The Children of the Forest," Bran clarified. "According to legend-and Old Nan-the Children were a mysterious, magical people who inhabited Westeros thousands of years ago; long before it was called the Seven Kingdoms, before the coming of our ancestors, the First Men. They sang the song of the earth, and the earth listened-they were strong with the power of magic. They held the weirwood trees sacred, and were the ones who carved the strange faces into their trunks."

Jon, who had been silent ever since he'd come in, finally spoke as well. "When our ancestors crossed over from Essos to settle here, they came into conflict with the Children, starting a war which lasted twenty centuries, and changed Westeros forever. Twice did the Children use their magic to turn back the First Men: the first shattering the Arm of Dorne, the second creating the swampy Neck."

With each description that they gave, Cortana became all the more fascinated and intrigued by these fabled 'Children of the Forest'. From the sound of it, they were likely the original inhabitants of the planet, or at least of Westeros. She still didn't know how humans would have come to live here outside of the knowledge of the UNSC, or away from the wrath of the Covenant... perhaps it was from some ancient, space-faring human civilization, predating known history, during or even before the time of the Forerunners? Maybe mankind's grasp was more far-reaching before the Halos fired, yet were reduced to both this planet and Earth after the Forerunners sacrificed all life in the galaxy to stop the Flood... She probably would never know for sure.

She wasn't so sure about the magical bits, but if they had the capacity to wreak such terrible havoc... No. That couldn't be it. An advanced race with such capabilities would never have lost to a humanity still trapped in a time where castles and horses were the norm. "Interesting..." Cortana muttered as she thoughtfully put her hand to her chin. "So, these... Children, do you know if they still exist?"

"I mean no offense to the stories Old Nan fancies you with," Luwin interjected, "But I would recommend you not confuse Lady Cortana between what is fact and fable. If the Children did exist, they're long since gone from the world, only alive in story and song."

"You shouldn't be so quick to dismiss them as fiction," Cortana suggested, a smirk on her face. "After all, me and the Chief came from a far away world, and how is that any less fanciful?"

To that, Luwin had no retort, and to the children's evident amazement, he actually seemed rather humbled by her words.

"So, to answer your question, Rickon," The AI continued, "I'm probably not one. But, if you look hard enough, and look in the right places, you might just find one."

Rickon smiled excitedly at her, but then Arya spoke up again. "When you say 'Chief,' do you mean the Spartan? Is he a leader of sorts among your people?"

"Perceptive yet curious, aren't you?" Cortana said with a chuckle. "Technically, when I say 'Chief,' I'm referring to his rank; Master Chief Petty Officer."

"Master Chief...?" She blinked confusedly at her. "What does that mean?"

"It's the highest rank an enlisted soldier in the Navy can reach-think of it kind of like a commoner rising through the ranks to become a field commander. Though, to be fair, he does have a knack for leadership, and is considered to be the leader of the Spartans."

Arya's eyes widened in something between surprise and excitement. "There's _more_ like him?"

And just as suddenly, a pang of regret ran through Cortana's though process, reflecting in her eyes. "There... were more like him."

"What happened to them?" Jon asked curiously, but before Cortana could answer, a distant, high-pitched droning noise came in earshot of all of them, followed by the shouting of the apparently panicked people outside.

"Oh, dear," Cortana sighed, "Looks like that giant tin can decided to bring one of _those_."

"Bring what, Lady Cortana?" Luwin asked worriedly, beginning to follow the Stark children now bolting outside.

"A pelican," She hollered as they left the hut, "Now, I know it may shock you, but please try to remain calm!" She meant what she said, but she still wished she could see the look on every one of their doubtlessly slack-jawed, eye-bulging faces outside, and not be confined to the small projector within.


	8. the Most Enduring of Human Practices

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Halo. Game of Thrones is property of HBO and George RR Martin. Halo is property of 343 Industries and Microsoft Studios, because I FINALLY looked it up on Wikipedia, and we all know the Wiki is always right! ...Right?

Now, I'm sure some of you have questions/ideas in your heads the more I progress into this fic. Should I make Jon and/or Arya MC's sidekick instead of sending him to the Wall and train him/her/them how to use firearms? Should Cortana and Bran team up so they become the supreme magitech duo? Should I include a Sgt. Avery Johnson expy somewhere in Westeros, and if so, who should have this cigar-chompingly awesome dude? Should someone become a Spartan? And just where and when is Dany gonna show up?

Truth is... I dunno. I do apologize for the delay-I've been on late nights at work and it's kicking my sleeping schedule in the arse. On the plus side, behold! A chapter more than twice the size of the last one! Exposition! More of Cortana and Chief wowing (and potentially traumatizing) the people of Westeroes! Surely you can forgive my delay now, right...?

Anyway, onto the show!

* * *

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, veteran of two wars and stoic lord of the largest of the Seven Kingdoms, was genuinely nervous.

It was his second visit to the great vessel of steel which the Spartan and his... companion called the _Forward Unto Dawn_, and despite the knowledge that there was no ill will meant for his people from these otherworldly travelers, the cold, unbelievably clean halls felt unnatural to him. The humming and other strange noises he heard as he, his eldest son, and Theon again followed the Spartan through the ship's hull, going through doors which hissed and opened with no help save the soldier's hand touching strange, glowing panels, felt so beyond the scope of his understanding that, had the Spartan and Lady Cortana not repeatedly reminded them otherwise, he'd have considered them something akin to the divine.

Their sudden appearance had certainly made events in Winterfell more exciting, to be sure. All the smallfolk could talk of were these new strangers, with their queer baubles and, of course, that great carriage he rode in, more fleet-footed than any horse and roaring like a bear, with no beast to pull it. Robb's stomach apparently wasn't strong during their uneasy yet incredibly swift journey, to his embarrassment and Theon's abundant amusement. It still amazed Ned of the marvels the Spartan possessed... but to think that, some day, many centuries in the future, his own people might be capable of replicating these wonders?

It was unimaginable.

"So," Theon spoke up, "This... vessel of yours, I take it it's the finest of your realm? Run aground as it is, this thing is probably more impenetrable than Harrenhal in it's prime. I'd wager it would be unstoppable at it's peak."

"No, it's not," The Spartan replied in his militaristic, stoic tone. "The _Foreward Unto Dawn_ is only a light frigate. It's primary utilization was for the transporting of soldiers and vehicles, not as a primary warship."

"So you say there are... other ships like this one, ones that are even larger and stronger?" Robb asked, curiosity and guarded awe in his voice. "I am glad we do not consider you an enemy, Spartan. I think even this monstrosity would be enough to smite any and every army of our world."

"...It likely still can," The soldier said cryptically. A collective chill ran down the spines of the three Westerosi men, all staring at the back of the Spartan.

"Master Chief," Ned finally chose to spoke, his voice wary as he addressed the Spartan by his self-proclaimed rank, "Your... what do you call it, UNSC? If we were to meet the peoples of your land, would they truly mean us no harm?"

To that, the Spartan stopped walking ahead of them, turning around to look the Stark patriarch face to face."They'd be more than a little surprised that another branch of mankind existed outside their knowledge, but I can assure you that our government would only want to protect and help your people. Though, it's unlikely that they'll locate this planet."

Eddard felt some relief at the Spartan's words. He was enigmatic, to be sure, but from what interactions they had together, the Master Chief was honest with what he told him, with all the candid professionalism of a disciplined soldier. And yet, for some reason, something the Spartan had told him unnerved him even more than he had been before. "And what is it, that they would deem is necessary to protect us from? What is it that your people, who are so much greater than our own, fear enough to warrant them to guard us, as though we cannot defend ourselves?"

For a long moment, there was an unbearable silence between the four of them, the Master Chief and Eddard's gazes never wavering. Then, the soldier spoke once more-and the words would haunt him long afterwards. "Something your people have no defense against."

Without another word, the Spartan turned back around, continuing his way through the halls of his vessel, leaving the trio to follow after him in stunned silence.

After some time traversing deeper into the vessel's bowels, they came to another wide, metallic door, this one larger than most of the others they had seen. The Spartan placed his hands on one of those glowing panels yet again, and again the walls parted with a hiss, revealing a chamber whose white lights flashed to life as they entered, brightening the room. The soldier approached some sort of metallic table, and with several clicking noises, an otherworldly image seemingly made of light suddenly appeared, numbers and unknown symbols blinking and flashing across a great sheet of blue. The strange, monotone voice of a woman echoed through the room, yet there was no woman visibly speaking. "_Access code, accepted. Compiling data files..._"

"Wait," Theon said, wheeling his head left and right, "I thought you said there was no one else on board."

"There isn't. That's a computer automated voice," The soldier replied evenly.

"Computer...?" Robb uttered confusedly.

"...Ask Cortana," Master Chief uttered in a dry, immaculately deadpan voice.

"What, does it talk the more things you press?" Theon wondered aloud, looking like he was about to test his theory-

"Don't. Touch. Anything," Came the icy voice of the soldier, colder than usual. Theon meekly pulled his hands back to his side.

"_Compilation complete. Please remove console._"

Without another word, the Spartan took something from the pedestal, and the images vanished as quickly as they appeared. He then lifted some bulky-looking metal object, but despite it's heavy appearance, he handled it with ease. Without turning back , he motioned for them to follow him. "We're heading for the hangar."

Ned remembered that place, where the Master Chief had procured the great metal carriage. It felt odd how familiar the walk became once they got back on track, reaching the wide metal door which opened for them to enter the massive corridor near the end of the ship, so spacious it made his own keep seem small in comparison. He realized that there were other monstrosities which this mysterious warrior traveled within this cavernous chamber, ones he had seen before. In their first venture here, all of them had been steadfastly silent as the grave as they passed through what the Master Chief called the 'hangar', where these vehicles had come from, each and every one of them slack-jawed and in wonder at the things they saw. To a degree, they still were, but familiarity to the Spartan had rendered them less worried and more curious over time.

A number of the strange means of transport seemed damaged-doubtlessly from when the great vessel had fallen, but there were a number of them that were still more or less intact. The smallest had four wheels, like the one he had brought, but was only about as large as a large pack mule. Another one, larger than all the rest, was some sort of massive hunk of metal with a great pole or tube protruding forward out of the top, looking heavily armored. There were also more of the carriages as well, but these all had some sort of platform on the back rather than the seats the first did, each having something vaguely resembling the great metal tubes on the larger vessels. But by far the strangest of all these otherworldly vessels were a number of great metal constructs, which had no wheels, sails, legs nor any other indication that it went by land or sea...

It was then that realization came upon Eddard like a pale of icy water.

"Those... vessels there, hung up from the walls," He asked, indicating them with an inclination of his head, "Do they... go through the air?"

At his words, both Robb and Theon's eyes widened, casting their gazes between him, the Spartan, and the great objects in question.

"I'd like to try and get back to your home as carefully as possible," He replied simply. "The cargo I brought on board is somewhat fragile; we'll experience less turbulence this way. Climb in and find a seat, or grip one of bars on the top. We'll be able to bypass the woods entirely and make a literal bee-line for your castle."

The Lord of Winterfell seemed passingly confused at his words, before he realized the meaning behind them, a small grin forming on his face as he and the two young men climbed up a flight of narrow, metal stairs up to one of the overhanging vessels. "You're worried for Lady Cortana." It was not a question.

"..." The Master Chief went eerily quiet at the comment, and although Ned wagered that he shouldn't press the issue, it was strangely comfortable know that the soldier had something he fretted over. He couldn't blame him for being suspicious, either. His people, while good and decent folk, were doubtlessly more superstitious of the Spartan than he was.

"Are we seriously about to fly?" Robb asked, something between worry and wonder in his voice.

"If we do," Theon quipped with a smirk, "Lets hope you can keep your stomach better than you did on the way here."

Robb glowered at him menacingly, but Ned himself couldn't help but chuckle. As the three of them began climbing in from the rear, the Spartan was already at the helm of the vessel, a strange set of flawlessly clear glass windows in front. Further back, where they had climbed in, there were a number of rudimentary yet strange seats lining the wall. All of them having done nothing but walk ever since first entering the great fortress-vessel, they graciously decided to sit-and to Ned's surprised, they were actually quite comfortable. Most chairs were made of stone or wood, with only the old throne of the Kings of the North back in Winterfell having something like it. And even then, it didn't allow him to get a feeling of actually sinking into the cushion.

"I suggest you all fasten yourselves in. You'll notice a harness above each of your seats. Pull them down until you hear a clicking noise."

Deciding that their driver was infinity more familiar with the what he was doing than they were, the three Westerosi wasted no time to do as they were told, and awkwardly slipped the harness-like structures down over their chests.

After about two minutes of the Master Chief doing... whatever it was at the head of the supposed flying machine, more strange noises emitting therein for him doubtlessly staring the metal goliath. He then said, as though to precaution them, "This might feel a little... strange."

And with a sudden jerk, Eddard felt the vessel move, he, his son, and his ward braced themselves with anticipation, awe, and fear as they felt the unfamiliar, unusual, and rather scary sensation of riding through the air. The rear opening they'd entered the vessel in was shut now by a great wall of metal, and could not see from the front windows abiding at the helm of the ship, but all could tell they were now on their way back to Winterfell. Robb looked somewhat queasy, but was composing himself admirably, while Theon himself was taking turns between smirking at Robb and trying to compose himself in a likewise manner.

Ned, for his part, felt uncomfortable as they depended on the Spartan to guide them, but he knew that at that point, they could do little else but trust his experience with this machine.

"Spartan," Eddard asked aloud, "Exactly how fast does this vessel go...?"

"What system do you use to measure distance here in Westeros?" The soldier asked.

"Leagues. What of it?"

"...Around little under four-hundred and thirty-four leagues an hour, at top speed. With no additional cargo to weigh it down, we should reach Winterfell within a few minutes."

"_What?!_" Robb nearly yelped, gaping incredulously. "That... that's..." He suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

"...You know," Theon deadpanned, "If it were anyone else saying that, I'd have thought you mad. But considering how many expectations you've already blown out of the water like a cask of wildfire, I'm honestly not all that surprised. I am curious though-do not misunderstand, being one of the first three men in more than a century to fly through the skies, I'm quite excited-but why do you name these contraptions after animals? Like that... what did you call it? The metal carriage you brought us in."

"...Warthog," Chief replied simply.

"You mean those piggish creatures found off of Sothoryos?" Robb blinked. "Well, I suppose that thing on the front vaguely resembles tusks..."

"A walrus has tusks," Theon argued back. "That thing more resembles a mountain lion than anything else."

"Don't they call them pumas down in the Free Cities?"

"That they do. Strange, I know," Theon rolled his eyes. "And this flying machine-you call it a pelican, Spartan? I've seen those bloody birds back at Pyke when I was young, and I can in no way, shape, or form understand any kind of resemblance to this metal... _thing_ other than the fact they both fly through the air. The wings on this thing don't even flap!"

"Enough, the both of you," Eddard finally chose to speak, hearing them chatter for long enough. "The Spartan has decided to allow us the privilege to transport us in a manner not seen since the Targaryans ruled Westeros atop their dragons. Do not give him reason to regret it by tormenting him with base banter."

* * *

For the next few minutes, Ned, Robb, and Theon all waited in their seats as the Spartan piloted the vessel back towards Winterfell, though they had to admit that the apparent, sheer swiftness that their journeys aboard the Spartan's vessels, combined with the the comparative lack of action or sight-seeing when scaled against riding on horseback, made what they thought should be an incredible, amazing experience to actually be awkward and, truthfully, boring. Not that they'd dare voice that opinion to their driver, but it was one Ned believed they each three shared.

Thankfully, and rather surprisingly, the Spartan finally spoke up from the front. "We're back. I'd ask you all to remain seated until we've come to a total and complete stop."

Ned swallowed. This would doubtlessly be a moment of truth. He hoped the smallfolk weren't panicking outside, but if they were, he'd need to calm them before they did something everyone would regret. In hindsight, he would have rather liked to have returned by way of the great carriage, as they had come in that fashion-his people would have at least been familiar with that. After a few more moments, Ned felt a sort of slight jerk seize the vessel, before it became utterly still. With a groaning hiss, the wall of metal at the pelican's rear opened, and low and behold, they had arrived at the the outskirt of the winter town, with Ned's three youngest children, Jon, maester Luwin, and practically all of the smallfolk and Stark guards looking at them, slack-jawed, unashamedly awe-struck, and furiously babbling.

Not that the Lord of Winterfell could blame them. They must have thought a dragon had come to them.

Unfastening their harnesses, the three marched out of the flying machine, and Robb immediately ran to a nearby thicket of bushes, and all immediately heard him gagging. The poor boy must have been holding it in the entire trip. As undignified as it was, the display, alongside Arya and Theon immediately bursting out laughing at Robb's misfortune, helped to defuse the uncomfortable looks in the smallfolk's eyes. Even Luwin gave a small grin, but his amusement was quickly replaced by the marveling look at the great monstrosity of metal.

"You _flew_ in that thing, father?!" Arya rushed up excitedly to him, his fiery daughter practically beaming in excitement, her younger brothers, Jon, and Luwin not far behind. "Is it a dragon? Did the dragon eat you?!"

"Calm yourself, Lady Arya," Luwin said patiently. "I believe this is no living creature, but rather one of the Spartan's otherworldly vessels. Given that he and Lady Cortana came to us in a great flying ship from the sky, I should have known similar methods of riding though the air could be achieved by a smaller medium..." He shook his head. "But it is nevertheless unbelievable for me to see it. To be able to fly, without the aid of any beast..."

"And before any of you ask, no, you may not ask the Spartan to take you on a ride in it," Ned spoke up to his younger children, eying them intently. Each cast their gazes away, as though trying not to reveal their disappointment. "Otherwise, you may end up like your elder brother."

Robb, by now having emptied his stomach of his lunch and regaining his composure, blushed furiously at the comment, all of them chuckling at the thought.

"What on earth is all this commotion about?" Came the voice of Ned's wife, and coming from the castle's direction was Catelyn and Sansa in tow, the Stark matriarch looking perplexedly at the Spartan's newly arrived vessel. Ned saw with a resigned sadness as Jon quickly backed away, out of Catelyn's sights. Sansa was eying the Spartan warily, the latter having already made his way back into his hut. Ned felt troubled at his eldest daughter's discomfort towards the soldier, finding that Sansa regarded him almost like Cat did Jon.

He would have to speak to her on it later, he supposed. For the moment, he had a more pressing duty of setting his people back to their everyday tasks. With the lordly voice he'd honed since the death of his father and brother, Ned spoke to the smallfolk, saying, "I know that what you all have seen here today is something we have not seen before-not even since the days the Targaryens ruled over us. But you all need not fear or be troubled by our guest or his marvels. Continue about your business, my good people, and remember to not disturb our guest, nor turn to gossip of him. That will be all."

The Lord of Winterfell's command was straightforward and curt, but the authority in his voice was absolute. His people, even in the face of things he himself could only wonder at, were quick to obey their lord, and though they cast wary glances at the great flying machine, they otherwise returned to their daily doings.

"So," Catelyn started, looking at the newest transport the Master Chief with a mixed look of curiosity and caution, "I trust your journey was safe, my husband?"

"Boringly yet blessedly so, I must confess," He said with a small smile.

"Truthfully?" Catelyn raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought being the first lord of the North to soar through the air a more memorable experience."

"There was nary a window for us to watch the land pass beneath us, nor the feel of the air whipping through our faces. To be honest, it was actually rather tedious."

"Tedious? The journey between here and that... vessel's landing took you three days to get there and back again atop a horse, and yet you have come back before the sun has even set."

"And the journey was still tedious. We did little more than sit idly as the Spartan drove us."

Robb groaned. "Swift as it was, I'd rather stick to riding a horse unless entirely necessary. My stomach didn't quite agree with the rides."

Theon sniggered at that. "He took to the Spartan's transports like the Dothraki take to the sea."

"Theon!" Catelyn hissed, appalled at the rude jest.

"My lord," Luwin decided to speak, the elderly maester holding a bundle of snow-white, very fine looking parchment, "If I may, I would like to return to my chambers to study these insights Lady Cortana has graciously bequeathed unto me. As fascinating as this flying machine is, there is always another day in which I may inspect it closer, with our guests' permission, of course. I believe she was entertaining your children before your... rather unsubtle arrival, Lord Stark."

Inclining his head, Ned allowed his trusted adviser to go about his business. "If anything should come up, be sure to tell me. I have my own inquiries to make of the Spartan and his companion."

"Can we come, too?" Arya asked with new excitement in her eyes. But Ned wouldn't let his little wolf's enthusiasm overtake him. The matter he wished to discuss with their guests was not something to trouble children with.

"No," He said with a shake of his head. "The three of you have already been entertained by Lady Cortana enough today. I must speak with only she, the Master Chief, and your older brothers." He turned to each of his four younger children. "Go with your mother back to the castle. You each still have lessons to attend, no?"

Arya, Bran, and Rickon looked varying levels of sullen at their father's command, but they complied all the same, heading back for the castle, reluctantly following their mother and Luwin. To Eddard's pain, he saw Cat turn back to give one last, cold stare at Jon, who merely looked to the ground.

Turning to face Robb, Jon, and Theon, the Lord of Winterfell said with a simple inclination of his head towards the Spartan's hut, "Come."

Jon muttered quietly, "Are you certain Lady Catelyn would not mind me attending these matters?"

"I've discussed it with her already," Ned assured him, his visage becoming grim. "You are as much a part of this as Robb or Theon, Jon. You were there with us when we first met the Spartan, and when we entered his steel vessel. And... I'm not sure I'd want her or the younger of your brothers and sisters to be here for what we're discussing with our guests."

"And those matters are...?" Robb asked, concern on his face for his father's grave change of mood.

"We're going to find out what the Spartan meant when he said there was something he believed we could not defend ourselves against."

* * *

"Did you _have_ to use the pelican?" Lady Cortana asked her larger companion in an almost exasperated tone. The way she lambasted the towering, heavily-armored soldier unafraid seemed like how a mother would scold her child. Or how a highly competent wife handled her more bumbling husband. It seemed rather odd to Ned as he and the three younger men watched them bicker, but it was also somewhat humerus.

"The console was already fragile after the _Dawn's_ landing," The Spartan replied evenly, "Transporting it via the Warthog would risk further damage due to the lack of roads."

The blue lady's image seemed irritated at his argument. "Oh, so scaring the poor folks here even more isn't a problem? You do realize that the only thing these people have to compare the pelican to is... I can't believe I'm saying this-dragons?"

"..." The Master Chief merely humphed, and that was probably all he was going to give them.

"There is no need to be troubled, Lady Cortana," Eddard assured the luminous figure, interrupting their argument. "Though my people were and still are more than a little intimidated by your... pelican, I believe we all should know by now you both are rather full of surprises."

"Well, for what it's worth, we didn't mean to scare you. As much of a lumbering, unsubtle rhino as he is, intentionally hurting or frightening another human being is the last thing Chief would want. Can I at least be happy knowing the ride wasn't bumpy?"

"For most of us, at least," Theon commented. "Robb here didn't seem to take to flying much better than he did to riding in your 'warthog'. His lack of lunch can attest to that."

"Will you ever let that go?" Robb asked sharply.

"Nope." Theon's smirk broadened into a grin, a grimace forming on Robb's face.

"It's just a little bit of car... er, flight sickness. It's the same for when you're on a ship. Certain types of motion causes your stomach to react in certain ways. It's not anything to be ashamed of, Robb," Cortana said in a reassuring voice. Ned saw his son's cheeks go red at the comment, a sheepish smile on his face. A beauty like lady Cortana assuring Robb-and she was quite the beauty, Ned understood, her diminutive size and otherworldly luminescence did not diminish that-would doubtlessly lift any young lad's spirits.

But this was not the time for such lightheartedness, Ned realized. Choosing to speak, Ned ended the conversation as he spoke to the glowing figure, "Lady Cortana, I must admit this light banter is not why we are here. When we were aboard your vessel, there was something your friend spoke of which, even now, concerns me."

"Hm?" The feminine figure blinked, as though in confusion, before she seemed to realize something. "Oh, dear," She sighed. "Chief?"

"He asked about the possible reactions the UNSC would have to the discovery of this planet being inhabited by humans," The Spartan stated matter-of-factually, "I told him they wouldn't mean any harm towards them."

"He said that there was something that your state would wish to defend us from. Something he said we had no defense against."

Any humor or casual lightheartedness in the luminescent maiden's composure turned to ice as she looked between Ned and the soldier, before she asked very carefully yet very simply, "How much did you tell him, Chief?"

"Nothing else, yet. But I think they should be informed."

With a reluctant sigh, she nodded. "You're right," She admitted, turning her attention back to the four Westerosi men. "All of you have a right and a need to know just what dangers lay out of your sight. Chief, plug me into the holo-projector."

Without another word, Cortana's image vanished from her pedestal, the light which previously illuminated it fading away like a dying fire as the Spartan removed a small, glowing object, almost like a crystal ringed by a rectangle of metal, before inserting it into the larger device. Then, the whole top of it flashed the same color as the smaller, before the luminous maiden's image again appeared, facing all three of them. "Now, this may take a while to get all the way through... and I'm not going to lie to you, some of what you see will be... hard. Very hard for you to take in. Anyone out?"

Ned turned to glance at each of the boys he considered his sons. Theon put on his usual cocky grin, but he could see that his bravado was merely a mask to hide the uncertainty in his eyes, yet he seemed too stubborn to remove himself from the room. Robb's face was more honest in that regard; he made no move of confidence to hide his wariness, but his eyes showed the will to stay, as well. And Jon, always steely-eyed, looked as grim as Ned was, but whatever fear he held was covered beneath that icy stare.

Ned spoke frankly for all of them, "I believe in seeing the danger before it comes rather than merely await it. We will listen."

"Alright, then," Cortana replied, seeming satisfied with their answer. "To start from a point you remember, under the UNSC, our race was able to tap into a power to allow us to travel through the stars from our home world of Earth." The 'projected' showed an image of a spherical shape, one that Ned realized must have been a world. It had seas, clouds, and continents, just like the world they inhabited-but not the same one. The continents' shapes were unfamiliar to him, and he also realized that it must be the one that Cortana called Earth. Then, the image of the sphere fell away, revealing strangely shaped ships which seemed similar to the great ship of iron their visitors first arrived in Westeros in. "Over the next few centuries, we expanded our sphere of influence until we held colonies on more than eight-hundred different worlds." More spheres flashed across, all vanishing to show the strangest shape Ned had seen yet; a sort of swirling, spiraling cloud with a bright light emanating from the center, with dust-like specks flickering all throughout it's curling arms. _Stars_, he realized, flabbergasted. It showed worlds where, he supposed, the UNSC had settled.

"Eight... hundred...?" Ned said, more than simply astonished. "That's..."

"Difficult to take in?" Cortana offered, a sympathetic look on her face. "I understand. All you've ever known is this one planet you've inhabited. To imagine even going to one other world must be even outside the realm of fantasy for you, I'd wager." The projector now gave way to a new image-one that took place over a great period of time. A bay which had been previously uninhabited quickly gave way to the rise of a burgeoning settlement, which even in it's infancy looked unlike anything Ned had ever seen. He watched in awe as great structures of steel and metal were raised up from the ground, with such massive scale and complexity that even the greatness of Old Valeryia seemed little more than primitive in comparison.

"Across many worlds, similar yet different all in the same, mankind flourished, as we reached out into the stars to find new homes to inhabit, to find refuges from the vices and hardships which had plagued them since time immemorial. And for a moment, it seemed that mankind had finally found it's peace..." Her voice seemed melancholy now, as though the wondrous prosper which she spoke of was not but a fleeting, inconsequential thing. "But it was not to last. For if there was one disease, one plague which humanity never managed to rid itself of... it was war."

War. A thing that the Lord of Winterfell was begrudgingly familiar with. Twice he had ridden off to battle, first when his family was brutally murdered at the hands of the Mad King, and the second when Balon Greyjoy rebelled against the Iron Throne. Neither time did he take any joy in the fighting, for Ned saw no glory in war-only hard necessity at times, and senseless blood-letting in all the rest. No matter how just or righteous the cause, war was war. Good men died, often ignobly, on some foreign soil, far from home, hearth, and family. And evil men scourged the land, terrorizing the defenseless in pursuit of ruthless means or the simple satisfaction of their monstrous desires. But for all he felt he knew of war... he had a feeling he was in for something far, far different.

"Old resentments and ancient squabbles long dormant emerged from their slumber. Those who believed in their own freedom, instead of being governed by some distant planet thousands of light years away, made their voices heard in the same manner so many other had over the thousands of years of human history-conflict." A terrible blast, like wildfire, or a dragon's flame, or perhaps something worse, tore in the city of iron, as men in strange armor came in to conflict with one another, all wielding the strange armaments the Spartan did, and for the first time, Ned realized just how deadly those weapons were. They looked as thought they shot like crossbows, but fired at an unimaginably faster rate, and spewed forth not bolts... but storms. For it sounded like thunder, flashed like lightening, and when their terrible shots struck home, their target fell dead to the floor in an instant. "Like a virus it was always lurking in your race; no matter how hard you tried to suppress your desire for destruction and fighting, it only fought harder to get out."

The fighting intensified on the ground, more explosions tearing the once proud city apart. Soaring high in the sky, flying vessels like the pelican seemed to drop huge shapes of metal, falling to the earth as though to crush the enemy below, as one would hurl stones from the rafters of a castle at siege. But, to Eddard's horror, it was no weapon meant to merely crush an enemy. For when they hit the ground, a blinding, terrible light flashed with a fury which no dragon or wildfire could ever hope to even match. When the light faded, and the smoke cleared, a whole part of the city was simply... **_gone_**. Nothing remained, not even the tallest or strongest of the great metal structures. Only a great, fiery, terrible gash in the earth, as though the gods themselves had hefted some unthinkably huge hammer and had beaten a dent in the earth itself. Turning to see his sons, he saw a similar horror written on all of their faces. They were all equals in the face of such devastating power.

It was not a weapon to smash the enemy, he realized with unashamed horror. It was a weapon of absolute annihilation. Was this what Cortana had meant when she had cryptically spoken to them when they first came to Winterfell? That they could wage war on a scale only the gods themselves could match? That alone was enough to haunt him for the rest of his days, but... Did they have such weapons on-board their ship? The Spartan had said aboard the _Dawn_ that very morning that, even in it's grounded state, it could still likely triumph against all the armies of the world.

Now, he knew why. And he knew that from this revelation, three matters of paramount import were now before the Stark patriarch. First, that he would ever afterwards profusely thank the gods that their guests did not come as conquerors and with no desire for war, but at simple wayfarers lost amidst the stars. Secondly, they should not be given cause to go to war, lest Westeros witness devastation and destruction unlike any it had ever experienced before. But perhaps most importantly, he would need to ensure no one would discover the implications of the Dawn's power, lest wars be waged over it, and that no one, not himself nor those he trusted, be allowed to use such weapons. The consequences of such folly were too terrifying for him to imagine.

"So..." Ned uttered dully, swallowing hard, "It seems no matter how far men go, war still plagues us." He turned to the soldier, who had been silent since Cortana began her tale. "Is this the war you fought in, Spartan?"

"...The first one," The Spartan admitted. "We Spartans were originally commissioned to quickly end insurrections throughout UNSC territory. It's not something I relished, but it was necessary."

Ned could understand that, though grim as it was. He knew first hand what it was like to be on both sides of a rebellion. Chaos and discord would spread quickly if a rebellion went on for too long. "...Some seventeen years ago," He began, "I and my friend, Robert, as well as our foster father, Jon Arryn, revolted against the Iron Throne for the crimes that the royal family had incurred against my family. The war lasted for a year before we triumphed, but in that time I saw much butchery and horror in war. Then, some years later, I was again called to war, this time to put down a rebellion instead. Was your war anything like that, Spartan?"

"No," The Spartan said bluntly.

Cortana chose that moment to continue. "Chief is correct. He and his compatriots were initially intended to swiftly quell uprisings and restore order to the UNSC before it spiraled out of control. And they were efficient in their duty. Soon, the Insurrection was nearly all but gone... but all of that changed when we had our first contact with our next enemy."

"But who else was there to fight?" Robb asked confusedly. "You've told us that your peoples were united under one banner before your rebellion. If you united under that banner again, who remains to threaten you?"

"...Something from beyond the realm of men," Jon spoke gravely. "Such a thing has happened before, Robb. During the Long Night, did our ancestors not drive back the White Walkers? Wasn't the Night's Watch established to man the Wall, and guard the realms of men from another such invasion?"

"How can you say that old legend was true?" Theon accused him. "The Others, the Children-they could be all myths. Even if they were true, who's to say where they are now?"

"Don't be so quick to write them off as fiction," Cortana chided cryptically. "Few weapons are as potent as ignorance. You see, Chief was correct when he said he was originally... conscripted to quell human rebellions. But, he's also correct in that those rebellions were not the only fighting he had seen. Jon here was right on the money-the enemy came from beyond our borders. They were a threat we never expected, a disaster we never prepared for. A deeply alien menace known as the Covanant."


	9. War Stories

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Halo. Game of Thrones is property of HBO and George RR Martin, while Halo is currently property of Microsoft and 343 Industries. Please support both franchises!

Initially, I thought that I couldn't drag my feet around much longer, and was thinking of just skipping over Cortana and Chief browning Ned and the boys' trousers over the Human-Covanant War in favor of actually getting around to the plot.

Instead, I've decided to actually humor you insatiable dudes and dudettes with more exposition, AND starting to put a soundtrack in! So be grateful! I do apologize for it's comparative shortness in relation to the previous chapters, but I'd like to just get it out of the way before you all rip me apart and finally get on with the plot. On a side note, if anyone knows a good fan-artist who I could request some sort of cover image for the fic, I'd appreciate it if you let me know!

* * *

The image of the great city of steel, marred by the terrible weapons used in the conflict Lady Cortana called the Insurrection, now seemed to be regaining some semblance of order, as the denizens slowly tried to rebuild from the fighting which had devastated it. Robb could see the figures of people trying to return to their lives before they warred with each other.

But, if what Lady Cortana had told them, that there was yet another enemy to face, it would not last. The nightmare of war would continue-and if the so-called Covenant were, as Jon suggested, as the Long Night was so long ago...

"Lady Cortana," Robb spoke then, finding himself strangely scared to ask what he was about to say. "What is this... Covenant, as you called them?"

The luminous figure looked intently at him, her strange, otherworldly eyes staring at him. "Before I answer your question, I'd like to ask you something. What is the Long Night Jon here just spoke of?"

Robb furrowed his brow at the remark, confused. Jon had cryptically concluded a moment before that the so-called Covenant was no threat from other men, much as the legendary War for the Dawn was in ages past. "What does that have to do with this matter?"

"It is the great irony of every given war in human history in that bloodshed and strife always reveal the true nature of those who fight," Cortana mused. "Through understanding your wars-your reasons to fight-we may be able to garner a further understanding between each other."

The words hung in the air like an icy wind, Robb, his father, Jon, and Theon all feeling affected by the words. It was no small secret their father had little love for war and destruction. He'd lost nearly his entire family as a result of one conflict. Yet the words seem to strike a cord for each and every single Westerosi in the room. Their land's very history was mired in war after war, struggle after struggle. A grim and depressing thought, in that such bloody business was so deeply ingrained to the ways of men. Certainly, peace was also known to men, and Robb had known nothing but peace in his life... But no peace, he knew, was ever eternal. It could last for a thousand years, but there would always be war to end the peace.

"Winter is Coming," Theon quipped. "Those are the words of your house, Lord Stark."

[**BGM: Game of Thrones OST - _The Wall_**]

Robb's father nodded towards his ward. "Aye, they are. They're meant to have a double meaning; as a grim portent of things to come, and a reminder of our family's beginning during the Long Night."

Robb looked back towards Lady Cortana, a grim look in his eyes. "Some eight-thousand years ago, when our ancestors, the First Men, and the mythical Children of the Forest lived side by side in Westeros, a terrible winter was said to have descended on the land, more cold and long and dark than any winter before or since. Through famine and terror, our lands were devastated and left desolate for an entire generation. The sun's light failed, and men were born, grew, lived, and died within the darkness of night. Kings froze in their castles, while mothers smothered their babes rather than see them starve, their tears turning to ice on their cheeks."

Robb's father continued the story. "In the midst of this terrible darkness, a race of icy demons, known as the White Walkers, emerged out of the utmost north from the Lands of Always Winter. Wielding razor-thin swords of ice, flanked by giant spiders, and commanding the power to raise the dead to do their bidding, they waged war against the First Men and the Children of the Forest. Our ancestors and the Children fought with great courage, but were nevertheless incapable of defeating them, and driven south by their advance. According to legend, the Others, as they were otherwise called, could not be slain by mortal means-steel and bronze and all manner of metals shattered against their frozen forms, and thus were made invulnerable to the arms of men.

"As the war against the White Walkers became ever more hopeless, it was said a man, known simply as the last hero, sought out the Children in hopes that their magic could aid what strength remained in men, in a desperate final resort to drive back the demons. The journey was fraught with peril, and cost this brave soul the lives of all his companions, even his faithful hound... but it was worth it. Narrowly escaping the wrath of the Others alone, he found an enclave of the Children, and discovered that their weapons of obsidian, otherwise known as dragonglass, could kill the Others, but the Children had not the numbers to prevail against the Others and their hordes of wights."

Jon then chose to speak. "Armed with this knowledge, the last hero managed to unite the dispirited First Men and the Children, whose mistrust of one another had made them fight alone, uncoordinated. It was said that the first brotherhood of the Night's Watch was founded at this time, perhaps led by the last hero himself; wielding dragonglass, fire, and steel, the two races rallied behind them. Through the Children's magic and the First Men's valor, they fought in the Battle for the Dawn, where they triumphed against the White Walkers, driving them back into the frozen wastes from whence they came. What became of the last hero is unknown, but after the war had been won, the Long Night finally came to an end, and spring came at last to free the land from the cold. Seeking to ensure that the Others would never again threaten their lands, the founder of House Stark and first King of Winter, Bran the Builder, oversaw the construction of a massive structure of ice and stone, inlaid with the magic of the Children's greenseers to bar the White Walkers passage south of the great structure. From that time forward, the Wall was manned by the Night's Watch, standing vigilant against all the threats from the far north."

Lady Cortana and the Spartan had been silent throughout the entire telling, and even as they finished, the two remained observantly quiet. The Master Chief's face was still encased beneath his helmet, so Robb could not see what he made of their tale. Cortana's eyes, however, were... calculating. Analytical. Almost unimpressed, in fact. Finally, after the long silence following Jon's account indicating their account of the Long Night was finished, she spoke. "So, at least in legend you understand what it is like to be the hunted. To fight for your right to live in your world. Is it really so difficult for you to work together, that you have to wait until something bigger than you starts bullying you?"

Her casual lambaste of their kind irked Robb greatly, but he kept his peace, as a pit grew in his stomach as to what Lady Cortana was getting at.

"If you understand war to be such a large part of our way of life," Theon spoke up, "Why do you chastise it? War, as you said, defines us. It makes us strong, thinning out the milk in our blood and leaves only hard iron. It gives men the chance to earn glory and renown-"

"There are only two kinds of people who find war to be glorious, honorable, or in anyway enjoyable," The luminescent lady interrupted cryptically. "Those who have not experienced war for themselves, or those who can hardly be called human to begin with. Chief here?" She turned her head to indicate her larger companion, "He never enjoyed war at all. The _only_ reason he fought was because it was necessary. And even that necessity could do little more than justify what he and his comrades had to do. There was no glory or fame or fortune which could change the brutality of the war. And, in the end? It took the same thing to bring mankind together-the same unifying force which has echoed throughout human history. One call that will always unite you: the emergence of a common enemy. For us, the UNSC, that enemy... was the Covenant."

[**BGM: Halo Legends OST - _Machine and Might_**]

The same device which had shown the images of the great city of steel now showed a strange vessel suddenly hovering over the still wounded metropolis. Was it another great flying ship? It seemed utterly stranger than the Spartan's vessel, all grey and rigid, all too apparently wrought of steel and meant for war. But this vessel had a sleek, thoroughly strange design, seemingly violet or pink in color. Blue and green lights bloomed from their hulls, yet their brightness did not seem to comfort Robb. Then, all of a sudden, countless smaller shapes swarmed out from the ship, like hornets flying from their hive in a fury. They swarmed over the city, and soon blasts again filled the streets. The smaller flying machines were attacking indiscriminately, shooting what appeared to be light or fire or some other terrible thing Robb could scarcely describe, tearing through the heart of the great city of steel with almost contemptible ease. People ran in terror, screaming as their attackers-in an act of horrific inhumanity, loosing their terrible armaments against those innocent, helpless people. Robb could only watch, his blood running colder and colder, as men, woman, and children were torn apart in the explosions, or simply so utterly destroyed by the blasts of fire-light that there wasn't even ash left of them. Those that could escape were either being crushed beneath their own shattered architecture, or fleeing in a desperate mass.

But even they were not safe.

For from one of the streets, a wave of truly monstrous creatures swarmed upon them. They were horrid, ugly looking beasts of many different shapes and sizes, all wielding smaller but no less terrifying weapons which shot more light-fire. A great number of them were diminutive beasts on short, stubby legs, with gray skin and strange masks. Others were thin but taller creatures, seemingly part bird and part lizard, wielding shields seemingly wrought of light. Roaring in some dialect Robb had never even heard of, another, taller, far more imposing creature, perhaps a leader among those demons, ran forward with a strange, two-pronged sword made of light, which he used to mercilessly impale a helpless father as he and his two daughters tried to flee. When his children cried out to their fallen parent, the creature let out a horrible, cruel cackle, and Robb saw that the monster had not the jaw of a man-but a strange set of four toothed mandibles, two on each side of it's mouth. Without pity or mercy, it ruthlessly struck the first child; a girl no older than Bran, slicing the poor thing in half with one swing of it's terrible sword. Then, seemingly to relish as it did so, the creature plucked the smaller girl by the neck with it's long hand, roaring before it drove the two-bladed sword the small child's body, then callously tossing her beside the corpses of her father and sister, running off to cut down the next human it could kill.

Robb was horrified beyond all words. He fearfully turned his gaze, and he saw Theon's composure to be little better. Even his father and Jon, both usually grim and stoic, were wide-eyed and stunned at the monstrous butchery they watched.

This was no war. It was eradication.

"...Where are your soldiers?" Robb asked in a trembling voice. "Where were your warriors who shot thunder? Who rent the earth with their terrible weapons and had ships which could soar through the skies-why were they not their to defend those people?!"

"They were busy fighting for their lives," Cortana said simply. "As powerful as our armies may seem to you, even they were rendered overwhelmed by the Covenant. A single one of their warships would have taken three of our own, each equal in size to that one warship, to match it." The projector's image now changed, and more of those monsters were there, in another part of the city. But so too were the men, the soldiers clad in strange armor and wielding the weapons of lightening and death. The soldiers fought valiantly, with grim determination and bravery Robb did not know existed, but they were outmatched. The monsters' arms left even their might obsolete, as they lost more and more men to light-fire as they desperately tried to fight back these nightmares. In the clouds above the now-burning city, Robb saw several of the great gray, flying war-vessels of the UNSC surging through the sky, doubtlessly hoping to rescue those caught in the nightmarish crossfire below. But before they could approach and save their ground-bound allies, a terrible column of blue light flashed from far in the sky, striking at the great heart of one of the ships, and causing a violent explosion to rend the mighty vessel in two fiery pieces, falling to the earth. Then, with terrifying swiftness, another column of light hit a second ship, causing it to meet a similar fate.

"Our enemies were ruthless, swift, and unrelenting. The Covenant was an empire who had been traversing the stars for nearly three thousand years, and only grew stronger over time. When they became aware of our existence, they declared war against our entire race, vowing to exterminate us from the galaxy. There was no reason given, no warnings or declarations-only destruction, fire, and death. Wherever they found us, they left nothing but scorched earth and vast expanses of glass. They did this-all of this-for nearly thirty years."

"_Thirty years?_" Robb's father exclaimed. "How did your people survive? How is it your people managed to _fight_ these things for so long a time?"

"You humans, as a general given, are a rather stubborn species," Cortana quipped. "You have a tendency to eventually overcome or get around whatever gets in your way. There were a multitude of reasons why we persisted for as long as we did despite our numerical and technological disadvantage, that tenacity of yours being a prime suspect... But, if you had to pin the blame on somebody, you need look no further than Chief here."

[**BGM: Halo Legends - _Halo_**]

For a moment, the four of them looked confusedly at the Spartan, but Jon spoke up, his eyes wide with realization. "You mean to say... you and your ilk were your people's champions."

"We did our duty," The Spartan said simply, "Nothing more."

"Jon, you say that as though there's more than one of the Spartan," Theon commented, looking between the two of them, before realization dawned on them all.

"There are... more like you, Spartan?" Robb gaped at the soldier. The Spartan alone was an imposing enough a fire. To think that there were others just as fearsome as he...

"The Spartan program Chief belonged to was originally meant to put down human rebellions," Cortana continued, "But when the Covenant began laying waste to our colonies, they took on a new mission-to act as the bulwark against the roaring tide. To be the sword and shield of humanity. And they embraced their new role with swiftness, courage, and strength. For they became all that stood between humanity and extinction."

The projector now showed another street within the city of steel, all aflame and filled with running, panicking people. A brave group of soldiers seemed to be trying to buy the civilians time, preparing a noble but hopeless stand to hold back an incoming horde of demons. He watched as more of their small flying machines were preparing to close in on those gallantly selfless soldiers, set to doom them to a fiery death-only for them to be suddenly shot out of the sky in a terrible explosion, it's charred frame crashing into it's own allies below. Robb saw, to his awe, great figures falling headlong to the earth. Armored and tall like the Spartan, they touched to the ground as though they were eagles, their heavy forms smashing into the stone pavement of the street, and all of them brandishing those strange thunder weapons. The soldiers who saw these armored titans land spared only a moment to gaze at the figures in awe, before they recomposed themselves, and they and the supposed Spartans each opened fire into the approaching horde of monsters. Light-fire and thunder rang and crashed as the battle raged all throughout the street, and Robb rejoiced as he saw the xenos tide held back, even breaking against the stalwart wall of men, and more of the UNSC warships appeared in the sky to fight the Covanant's own.

The silent, hulking figures stood like a wall against the monstrous tide, and the light-fire seemed to practically roll off of them as they continued to shoot their thunder weapons. For a few moments, he thought he saw a golden, yellow light flashing across the Spartans' strange yet undoubtedly heavy armor when they were hit, but whether it was a trick of his eyes or something else entirely, he could not say. The Covenant lines broke as soon as one such titan shot down the monster with the twin-pronged light-sword, the smaller creatures beginning to panic and rout as the armored soldiers and their lesser compatriots advanced with furious vengeance. Within but a few minutes, the men with thunder weapons had at last wiped out the last of the stragglers, and above, the xenos ship had at last been destroyed.  
Throughout the scarred city, cheers arose from the soldiers as all became aware that the day was theirs.

"But," Lady Cortana relented, something between grimness and sorrow in her voice, "For all their selfless courage and fierce valor, even the Spartans could not turn the tide-only hold it back. Delay the inevitable. The Spartans did give mankind the hope that they could win; that through sacrifice, valor, and determination, mankind could survive. But it was not a turning point for us. For, each victory we claimed was costly, and each defeat crippled us further and further. And each blow the Covenant suffered were only temporary, to be quickly replaced by their superior war machine and overwhelming numbers. For every world we managed to save, two more were burned and turned to ash and glass."

The image of the city changed entirely again, and instead showed what Robb presumed was a different world. The first image of the great sphere was that of a foreign yet familiar planet, with blue seas and great continents spanning it's surface. But then, that image was replaced by more of the Covenant's vessels flying towards the surface, invading the planet's skies nearly unopposed. The humans fought bravely, but they were simply too outmatched and too outnumbered. Then, as their ships were still in orbit, the xenos ships massed together before great columns of blue, green, and red light erupted from the underbelly of each ship.

And when they touched to the earth, Robb became absolutely stunned, his horror just about giving way to terror.

For of all the destruction that Robb had seen the Covenant rend unto their foes, none could compare to what he saw. The columns of light rent terrible, burning gashes into the earth, the smouldering, white-hot trenches so deep that one would have easily engulfed Winterfell. Entire cities were turned to ash amidst the vast fires which raged, the skies turning dark and thick from the smoke and ash.

It looked like the end of the world had come to that place. That the gods had finally grown weary of the vices of men, and chose to put an end to all life in the world.

"Old gods keep us..." Robb uttered, trying desperately keep his composure. Theon, beside him, uttered not a word, though he did nothing to hide the fear in his eyes now, the bravado and cockiness gone. Jon's eyes also showed fear, but that fear was seasoned by the grimness framing his face. And their father... he looked far older in that moment than Robb had ever seen of him. The heir of Winterfell chose to speak after a long silence followed the terrible display, the young man barely managing to hold back the tremble threatening to stutter his speech. "But... if that is true... if those you called the Covenant were able to inflict such... monstrous power on you... what is there left for you to return to?"

"We didn't lose the war," The Spartan said resolutely, and for some reason, Robb could feel hope swelling in his chest at the soldier's words, driving back the feeling of helpless despair and terror. "I was there when the Covenant was finished."

"But... how?" Robb's father asked in a weak voice. "How could you have triumphed against such a terrible foe?"

"That, I'm afraid, is a story for another time," Cortana admitted. "You four look like you've heard enough for one day. You should head back to your castle and take some time to ponder on what you've learned here."

"But, what if they come here?" Theon asked, anger in his voice, "How exactly are we supposed to just go back to our lives fearing every day that those monsters might come for us?!"

"By knowing that if they could have found you," The Master Chief said plainly, "They'd have glassed your entire planet by now. And even if they do come here, I won't let that happen."


End file.
